


Captain America: A Matter of Time

by Legume_Shadow



Series: Captain, Agent, Soldier, Spy (Series) [4]
Category: Agent Carter (TV), Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: 1940’s Bucky and 2020’s Natasha Get Along Like a House on Fire, Cold War, Consequences With Time Travel, F/M, Gen, Influenced by The Americans, Inspired by Stargate SG-1, M/M, Peggy is a Badass (per usual), Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Spycraft, Steve Has All the Stones and is Overpowered, Superhero Spycraft Thriller (Hopefully), Thunder Cap, Time Travel, Writing Overpowered Steve is Insanely Fun, so much spycraft, why did I write this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-30
Updated: 2020-07-03
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:15:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 33
Words: 255,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22024663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Legume_Shadow/pseuds/Legume_Shadow
Summary: There is no ‘then’, when there is no time.  Yet, when Steve Rogers steps into the river that represents the last that has passed, and the first of what is coming, there are consequences to be had.  Post-Avengers: Endgame.Sequel toCaptain America: Midnight on the Firing Line.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes & Peggy Carter, James "Bucky" Barnes & Peggy Carter & Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes & Steve Rogers, Peggy Carter & Steve Rogers & Howard Stark, Peggy Carter/Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov, Steve Rogers & Tony Stark
Series: Captain, Agent, Soldier, Spy (Series) [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1710697
Comments: 57
Kudos: 39





	1. The Long Path

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Shadow_Chaser](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadow_Chaser/gifts), [Olareema](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Olareema/gifts).



> First Publishing: Dec 2019/Jan 2020, AO3  
> Disclaimer: All characters (except for the ones created by me) belong to their respective owners. No profit is being made from this work of fiction.
> 
> Theme Music: '[Thunder](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QG_2ooaB7rk)' by Ninja Tracks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Theme: '[The Long Path](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nmJgSWhm0vo)' by Ninja Tracks

**Chapter 1: The Long Path**

[09-24-1946, 63°17′34″N 168°42′05″W]

_Don’t do anything stupid while I’m gone._

_How can I? You’re taking all the stupid with you._

Steve stared at the red digital date and coordinates on the ‘time GPS device’. He took a single deep breath and noisily blew it out. He looked up; the cold, salty breeze of the Bering Sea brushing over him.

“Hang on, Bucky,” he murmured, deactivating the device. “I’m coming.”

Steve tucked the device underneath the nanosuit layer. He looked around, noting that there was nothing except for a bleak landscape surrounding him. Only a speck of white tent and a flag pole bearing the colors of the United States stood out against such a drab, desolate island.

That was his destination, and there was nothing that Steve could see that was a direct threat. Yet, he knew it was designed as such – this area had not yet been developed, and most of the inhabitants of the island were living on the western end. In a few years, there would be life here, as an early warning system would be installed.

But that was a few years that he didn’t know if it would happen anymore – not with what he was about to do. But he had already made up his mind to do it. He had chosen to do this, because after all that he had seen and done—

“Hang on,” Steve murmured again as he shook his head to dislodge his circular thoughts and concentrated on the now.

He had chosen this – he was not going back.

Setting off at a light jogging pace, Steve kept alert for any sudden movement or activation of a large-scale electronic system that would announce his arrival. He could not hear a hum of micro electronics – none of those had been invented or shrunk down to the size he had gotten used to. Technology was not running away rampantly, or almost magical-like yet.

Reaching the tent, there was a single military jeep parked behind it. It was unguarded, and the keys had been left in the ignition. Steve entered the tent and while it looked as if it were built for a guard post, he knew it was anything but.

Going to where the two cots were, he crouched at the foot of the first cot where there was a trunk. While ordinary-looking, he knew it was anything but. Taking Mjolnir into his hand, he gently placed it on the edge of the trunk and tapped the hammer.

A bolt of electricity shot out and crawled all over the trunk as he holstered Mjolnir at his side again. At almost the same time, he heard the clank and whine of gears turning, followed by the hum of an elevator rising. Stepping back, he waited a few minutes before the noise stopped.

The cots automatically parted to either side, as the ground-embedded door to the underground base slid open. The first time Steve had been here was when he had been hunting down and eradicating any remnants of HYDRA’s brainwashing facilities. Concentrating mainly on Soviet assets had almost led him to ignore this particular base.

Natasha had been the one to flag it after digging through the data that she and Fury had released. Even then, it had been almost dismissed by both of them. It was due to the fact that it came from Zola’s personal diary. SHIELD had scanned it into their databases after the scientist had physically died.

[ _July 2_ _nd_ _, 1945._ _Coordinates approximately_ _63°17′34″N 168°42′05″W_ _, or so my captors tell me. My new ‘home’ for the foreseeable future._ ]

Steve clearly remembered the words, especially the coordinates. It would have made sense for the US government to hold someone as valuable as Zola in a remote area. Yet, the accuracy of the coordinates had made no sense—

He shook his head again, surprised at himself for letting his thoughts wander, when he knew that he should be more careful. The base in the here and now, was not what it had been the first time he had investigated it. It was an active base, and whatever guards down below would have clearly heard and seen the elevator move.

Swinging himself over the lip of the entrance, he dropped fifteen feet down to the catwalk and strode into the elevator. Pressing the button to take him down, he took another deep breath and focused on what was going to happen in the next few minutes.

As much as he had wanted to travel back to the exact date state in Zola’s diary, he didn’t. This particular date he had arrived in was the earliest known time and location of where Bucky was – after he had fallen from the train. Whether by fluke or by something else, someone named Alexander Lukin had made a note about this location in the Winter Soldier folder that Natasha had given him.

Steve took another deep breath and stilled his mind, as the layers of concrete and darkness that passed him by emerged to a more brighter, large cave-like structure. The elevator continued to descend, and he could see the specks of the guards grow ever closer and larger.

They were craning their necks up to see who exactly was coming down through the cage-like elevator. Keeping his hands loose beside him, Steve tilted his head slightly to stretch his neck one last time. He would play it by ear, as to whether or not the guards were friendly—

“Hands up where we can see them!” the guards shouted as soon as the elevator stopped.

One had already stepped forward to yank the cage-like door open. As soon as Steve took a good look at the guards and the weapons that were pointed at them, all thoughts of being ‘friendly’ to the guards disappeared.

All of the guards were wielding Tesseract-based rifles.

“Holy shit, it’s _him_!”

“Fire! Open fi—”

Mjolnir flew into Steve’s right hand. The bolt of electricity that shot out and into the HYDRA-allegiance soldiers cut their declaration short. It forked and spread as Steve ran out of the elevator. Explosions littered the air as he threw Mjolnir with all of his might in an arc, damaging several key pipes that kept the life support system of this base afloat.

Alarms were already blaring, with the lighting in the immediate area shorting out emergency systems. Recalling Mjolnir, Steve holstered it and picked up the lone Tesseract-based rifle that had not been destroyed.

While this base had been home to a fledgling HYDRA in regrowth, Steve knew that it was only one of many in the world. The Red Skull and most of his European bases had been destroyed, but it was as they said their namesake was: cut off one head and two more shall take its place.

He could not casually wield Mjolnir in a destructive manner – at least not yet. The primary concern was that this was an underground base, and he did not want to collapse it upon himself or Bucky. He would consider doing that after he got Bucky out.

Steve ran down the first corridor, hoping that he had chosen correctly as to where Bucky may have been kept. The first time he had entered the facility, everything had looked to be abandoned. There had been barely anything left except for a lone, empty cryogenic pod positioned next to the elevator. What little paper trail that had been left had been burned by him, before he had laced up enough C4 to bring the place down.

Now, it was a rescue mission.

Taking cover, Steve felt the sizzling heat of the blue bolts pass by where he had been. Flecks of super-heated dirt and concrete peppered him. Steve briefly squeezed his eyes shut as he turned away from it. It was not something he wanted to do, but considering he did not know just how many soldiers the SSR had stationed here, he had to.

A split second later, Steve felt the Mind Stone slip into his left hand. Its mental link to him felt like a cool, uncomfortable cascade of oil that seemed as crystal clear as it was muddy. He didn’t like the feeling worming through him, but he had to stomach it. It certainly felt better than the dark, seductive call of the Power Stone.

He opened his eyes, briefly glancing down at the yellow stone in his hand, before curling his nanosuit-encased hand around it. A few seconds later, the multiple visages of him appeared. They were semi-transparent, but were all wearing the same uniform and holding the same Tesseract-based rifle as he was. A copy of Mjolnir had also been made.

Steve didn’t even need to command the doppelgangers he had created with his mind to move. They just did – becoming the visual distraction he needed.

Shouts carried across the corridors as the soldiers were drawn elsewhere. He waited a few more seconds for the firefight to die down, before popping out. The Mind Stone was stored in its own compartment, and its influence on his mind lessened considerably.

Hurrying down the corridor, he headed towards where he remembered seeing cell-like structure the first time. He wouldn’t put it past HYDRA here to make sure Bucky was stored in this somewhat isolated area, if whenever US government officials or SSR brass visited.

Breaking past the door that led into the cell area was simple enough – a quick application of force on the door handle. The lights were flickering with the continued collapse of life support and other systems. Most of it caused by his usage of Mjolnir, and the rest most likely by HYDRA’s wild shooting of their weapons at his visual doppelgangers.

Steve hurriedly checked all the cells, finding them empty, until he got to the last one at the end of the area. Yet, the man standing in the corner of the cell, seemingly terrified that he was about to be killed, was not who he expected.

“Michael?!”

“Steve?”

Steve immediately wrenched the cell open with sheer force, as the fear that he had seen in Michael Carter’s eyes died. Peggy’s brother gingerly stepped forward, looking at him in disbelief. His hair was grown out again, and he looked emaciated and unkempt. His appearance at the moment was much like his first appearance since being found alive as a prisoner-of-war by the Howling Commandos.

To be captured once by HYDRA in Norway and found again, to being captured a second time – by HYDRA yet again… Steve wished that he had known. When he had read the dossier SHIELD had on Peggy, there was barely a mention of her brother, Michael. All it had said was that Michael had been declared dead in 1942, and again in 1945 – shortly before VE Day. Peggy had not talked at all about her brother whenever Steve had visited her in hospice.

As much as he wanted to question why Michael was being held at this specific facility, he didn’t. After what he had learned about what Peggy’s brother did as a SOE agent, it wasn’t all that difficult to connect the dots to how the Winter Soldier had been created. HYDRA would’ve wanted a test subject before implementing the ‘final product’ on Bucky. Michael was most likely HYDRA’s ‘test subject’.

The thought angered him even further, and he was now glad he had chosen to do this. “You coming?” he asked, gesturing for Michael to follow him.

Michael gave him a puzzled look before taking the offered Tesseract rifle. “You’re...”

“Not dead,” he said, taking point, but did not bring Mjolnir to bear.

Wielding the hammer in front of Michael was not something he wanted to do – only because he didn’t want to answer questions. It was better for everyone to still think of him as dead – except for the ones he cared about. And even then, he was going to return Mjolnir to its rightful place in time – there was no need to draw even more attention to himself.

That ‘life’ he wanted, was one of peace and quiet.

“How…?” Peggy’s brother began.

“Crashed into the ice,” he stated, kicking up and snatching another Tesseract-based rifle into his hands. “Woke up, found out everyone thought I was dead. I figured that dead people have an easier time eliminating the last vestiges of HYDRA.”

“Woke up, found out everyone thought you were dead, _and_ got a strange sense of humor,” Michael stated, as they traversed down the corridor, side-by-side. “Comics said you crashed some HYDRA super-weapon into the ice. True or not, are you certain that you didn’t get knocked around—”

HYDRA soldiers appearing at the end of the corridor cut Michael’s question off, as both Steve and the SOE agent ducked into adjacent corridors, evading enemy fire. A shout down another corridor briefly diverted HYDRA’s attention. As soon as there was a brief lull in the firefight, Steve immediately emerged and fired his weapon.

The soldiers vanished in a puff of black and blue.

“Do you know where they’re keeping Bucky?” Steve asked, as the two of them continued down the corridor.

“What?”

Steve turned back to see that Michael had stopped, gaping at him. There was a stunned look on the SOE agent’s face; it was clear that Michael never received news that Bucky had ‘died’ during the operation to capture Zola. A field agent such as Peggy’s brother wouldn’t have gotten such news anyways.

But, Steve didn’t have time to explain what happened. Instead he said, “Woke up and found out that he got captured. The trail led to here. We need to find him and get out.”

He turned back around. Before he could take more than two steps forward, Michael had closed the distance and forcibly grabbed his arm.

“When?” Michael demanded as Steve turned back around.

“Later,” Steve insisted, shaking his arm loose.

Michael looked to object, but realized that it was not the place or time to demand such things. Steve saw him curtly nod before gesturing for them to continue. It was not ideal, but Steve didn’t blame him for not knowing that Bucky was here or held captive. He thought that perhaps the two might have been held in captivity together – but that was also untrue.

If there was one thing HYDRA was good at – it was hiding prisoners away. But Steve remembered, knew the corridors like the back of his hand. Thus, he took point and continued down a set of corridors that he hoped would lead them to where Bucky was.

The rumbling of explosions continued as they made their way through the base. They occasionally ran into one or two HYDRA soldiers, but it seemed that this base only had the bare minimum of a skeleton crew guarding it. Steve could only surmise that most had been killed in the initial fight.

The alarms were not as noisy the further he traversed this area. Lights continued to flash red, and intermittent explosions rumbled through the area. Steve was greatly reminded of the first time he had searched for Bucky in Azzano.

The eerie relative quietness of the current corridor that led to what he remembered looking like laboratories, were sending even more unease down his spine. He slowed down to a cautious walk, checking behind each closed door. What he had initially thought were laboratories were much worse than he could imagine.

Apparatuses that looked like prototypes of the metal conditioning chair he remembered seeing in the Siberian silo decorated each room. Adding to his anger were several tables, some full of charts and diagrams of the human body, others of the brain.

Steve had never asked Bucky if he remembered any of his conditioning, and Steve would never. Just seeing what he was seeing was making him sick. Bucky had told him that his first ‘activation’ or deployment as the Winter Soldier had been in 1947 – Steve was here well before that year.

Bucky would never become the Winter Soldier.

Steve found Bucky in the second to last ‘laboratory’ in the corridor. The door was locked like all the others, and all it took were a few blasts of the Tesseract-based rifle to get it open.

The cryogenic tube was not front and center of the room, but rather ensconced off to the side – as if it were an accessory. An operating table, along with an unusual-looking machine that contained a giant semi-transparent sphere of sorts took up nearly the entire rest of the room.

Steve immediately slung his rifle over his shoulders as he heard Michael curse. Hurrying over to where the cryogenic tube was, he searched for the panel that would allow him to wake Bucky up. To his frustration, there was nothing overt on the cryogenic tube that indicated a panel.

“Search the table and machine,” he ordered, as he went over the seams of the tube again, wondering if he missed a hidden catch. “See if there’s anything there that tells us how to open this damn thing.”

Steve tried to avoid staring at the frozen face of his best friend. He had to thank God that it looked as if there was still some power source that kept the chamber active. He was not keen on rolling the cryogenic chamber with him, but if Michael could not find—

“Got it!” Michael shouted. “Bottom edge of the chamber, panel. Three-two-two-three-one.”

Steve crouched down and ran his hand along the edge. At the left most side was a slight catch, and Steve snapped it open. Inside were three buttons, all colored the same – red. “Any indication as to which side is one, and which is three?” he asked.

“No,” he heard Michael say, as he glanced back to see him approach. “But I have a feeling that it may be opposite of traditional convention.”

“So right to left then,” Steve stated. He stared at the panel for a brief moment before tapping in the code from the right.

For a few seconds, nothing seemed to happen. Then there was a sudden hiss and pop, before a sudden rush of cold and fog enveloped the immediate area. Steve waved his hands in front of him as he scrambled up in time to dodge the chamber’s door sudden swing to open.

“Bucky…” Steve began, but stopped short as he saw the state that his best friend was in.

Dried blood and frost was stuck on the uniform that Bucky wore. It took Steve a moment to realize that the Soviets or HYDRA had not even bothered to change or clean his wounds from his fall. Lacerations and slowly healing wounds that still looked to be flash-frozen mid weep covered Bucky. The Soviets had sawed off his left arm and attached the gleaming metal arm – and the implant site still looked infected.

Worse yet, the arm was already marked with the blood red star.

“Jesus Christ,” Michael whispered in horror, stepping around Steve.

Michael’s exclamation snapped Steve out of his fugue as he reached out and placed a hand underneath Bucky’s jaw. There was a pulse, but it was incredibly faint. He didn’t know when Bucky would wake up, but they had to get out of here fast.

“Michael, take point,” he ordered, as he pulled Bucky out of the chamber. He grunted with exertion as he hefted Bucky up, slinging him across his shoulders in rescue-carry. “Back down the corridor, take a right, down past the first adjacent hall and left. Down to the end and take a right – should get us back to the entrance.”

“Got it,” the SOE agent answered, leading the way.

Steve took one quick look around the area before following Michael out. He was slightly worried that he hadn’t seen a hair or sign of Zola thus far. While not a large facility, the corridors were all interconnected. It was not his objective to pursue Zola, but he wouldn’t mind if the man was trapped down here… or even killed when he destroyed the facility.

Carefully making their way through the even more violently shaking ground that was now additionally filled with debris, Steve began to feel Bucky stir. Just after they crossed the first intersection, Steve felt a rather painful jolt against his back.

“Easy, easy!” he said. Steve stopped and gently slung Bucky off his shoulders. He grasped Bucky’s shoulder, to steady him. “Take it easy, Buck,” he continued to say.

“Wha...” he heard Bucky slur incoherently. The confusion that gripped him was short-lived. Pain immediately replaced it, and Steve immediately slung Bucky’s right arm over his shoulders to hold him upright.

“Come on, soldier. We’re going home,” he stated to Bucky while silently nodding towards Michael to continue forward.

After passing two more intersections in the long corridor, Steve could see that Bucky was beginning to regain some coherency. As soon as he felt Bucky tugging his arm away, Steve let go, but kept close to catch him, if needed.

As silent as Bucky was, Steve could see some confusion still swimming in those pain-filled eyes of his. It was clear that Bucky was puzzled as to why he was here, where they were, and how exactly Michael was here as well. But, he was willing to put all of his questions aside and get free and to safety first, before asking.

Steve silently nodded once to Bucky, receiving the same nod in kind. It filled him with hope and happiness to see such a response. He remembered how long it had taken Bucky to recover even some of his old personality before Wakanda had removed those commands—

He mentally shook his head as he dashed the thought away, handing his rifle to Bucky as he picked up another one on the floor. He didn’t need to think about his or Bucky’s past and future that would not happen – not for Bucky now.

The three of them got to the elevator relatively unhindered. Most, if not all of the soldiers who had been ‘guarding’ the facility were dead. “Go,” he said, gesturing for the two to enter the elevator. “I’ll be right back. I’m going to go set off some explosives.”

He expected their splutters and protests, but immediately turned around and lightly ran off. To his relief, neither Bucky or Michael followed him. What he could only surmise as the generators that powered the facility were down another set of corridors. The first time he had been here, he had placed most of his C4s in that particular area.

Now, he was going to destroy it using Mjolnir—

Steve skidded to a halt; the tell-tale flap and sliver of what looked to be a white lab coat flitting by the corner of another corridor. He hurried towards the corner, and turned— “Zola!”

His roar seemed to echo and drown out the alarm and explosions for a brief moment. Steve’s eyes were not deceiving him; he saw the short statured, balding, and glasses-wearing HYDRA scientist.

“The rumor of your demise seemed to have been greatly exaggerated, Captain Rogers,” Zola stated.

Mjolnir flew into Steve’s right hand. Zola’s eyes widened in surprise, but before Steve could unleash a bolt directly into the scientist, he saw him pull a small, cylindrical item out of a coat pocket. Zola pressed the button—

Steve immediately abandoned all thoughts of unleashing Mjolnir, as the Space Stone slipped into his left hand. Just as the first explosions ripped across the corridor, Steve let the ice-cold feeling of the stone snake its way through. He mentally grasped onto it, and was enveloped with a cloud of blue and black.

He stumbled out of the cloud, emerging into the main area where the elevator was. The ground roiled beneath him, as he ran up and into the elevator. Bucky had already slammed the button to send the elevator topside, while Michael had reached out to grab onto him so he didn’t fall back out as another violent explosion tore through the place.

Chunks of debris were falling all around them, crumbling from the top on down. Zola’s last stand was going to bury them, and Steve knew that they would not make it to the surface in time. He didn’t want to continue to use the stones, but he didn’t return here from 2023 only to fail.

Letting the Space Stone’s cold stab fill him again, Steve gritted his teeth as the chilly tendrils expand in his mind to capture the presence of Bucky and Michael. A second later, they were all enveloped in blue-black smoke…

… only to be deposited a few hundred feet away from the white tent, on the surface of the Alaskan island. The stone’s grip on his mind didn’t even fully receded when the ground seemingly belched, fifty yards from where they emerged.

Steve stumbled, and fell to the ground with the others, as he raised an arm to cover his own head. Peeking out from under his arm, he saw the tent, and all of its surroundings enveloped in a spray of super-heated and scalding hot dirt. Those clumps flew high into the air, before falling down like rain, pelting the immediate area.

Luck seemed to be with them, as the three of them were upwind of the explosion, and had escaped with little to no new injuries. “Everyone all right?” Steve asked as an eerie silence fell over the area.

Michael coughed before saying, “Right as rain. Nice work with the… hammer… I think.”

“Wasn’t me,” Steve said, helping him up before going over to where Bucky was. Steve helped him up, but held on – it looked like Bucky was far more injured than what he could see. “Zola set it off—”

“Zola?”

Bucky’s quiet, angry growl of the scientist’s name, coupled with his stepping away, caused Steve to turn slightly. “The mission… failed? What day is it?”

“September 24th, 1946,” Steve stated, as Bucky took another step back. As injured as Bucky looked, Steve did not miss the intense, almost strangely hostile look shot his way.

“Holy…” Michael began, collapsing to his knees. The SOE agent buried his face into his hands. “What the hell…”

“We won the war,” Steve quietly answered, looking at both of them before focusing on Bucky. “But you—”

“Fell,” Bucky quietly stated, the hostile look dying slightly in his eyes. Steve saw him squeeze his eyes shut for a moment, grimacing. “I… remember… “

The happiness that Steve knew he should have felt at the fact that he had timed it correctly, and saved Bucky from a fate worse than death, didn’t come. Relief was there, but it was severely tempered by the fact that they had escaped by the skin of their teeth. Not to mention that he had been forced to use the stones to get them here.

As uncomfortable as the silence was that stood between the three of them, Steve didn’t let it linger for long. “I need to get the two of you to a hospital—”

“Ivenchenko,” Bucky suddenly stated.

“Who?” Steve asked at the same time Michael had echoed that question.

Bucky silently shook his head, indicating that he wasn’t too sure, but said, “I just remember his name and seeing him work with Zola once… while down there.”

“No,” Steve said, shaking his head slowly. “But I don’t think anyone would’ve survived that explosion anyways.”

As Bucky glanced back towards the several hundred feet deep hole in the ground, Steve followed his gaze. The first time he had been here, he had tried to see if there were any secret passages in or out of the facility – a way that things could be smuggled in or out without going through the elevator. But there had been none in that base. There was only one way in and one way out – and now, it was destroyed.

“Let’s get you to a hospit—” Steve began again.

“What did Philips do, to make you agree to do this on your own, Steve?”

Steve opened his mouth to answer, but thought better of it, in response to Bucky’s quiet but furious question. A moment of regret that he didn’t try to find and recover his own body in this timeline first, briefly filled him, but he dashed it away. When he was finished with that task, this rescue and all of the strangeness that Bucky and Michael had witnessed would be a thing of the past.

Steve from 2023, would just be a small aberration in the flow of time.

“I… ‘died’,” he stated. “Bringing Schmidt’s war bomber down over the Artic. The war ended, but HYDRA is not yet completely defeated. This…“

“You’re not done yet, are you?” Michael’s question filled the silence as Steve fell silent.

Steve didn’t want to continue to tell Bucky what happened. This was supposed to be a new leaf for all of them – a new lease on a life that they should have had.

“One more,” Steve said after a moment. “One more, and then…”

_One more – to rescue my self from the Arctic – then I can go._

“So… hospital, then?” Michael asked, getting up and slung Bucky’s right arm over his shoulder.

If there was one thing that Steve was grateful for, it was the fact that Michael knew when not to push for secrets. Bucky might’ve been Steve’s best friend, and there were little to no secrets that stood before them, but Steve was unwilling to continue to share what he knew. There were just some things that should be put to rest.

“Yeah,” he said, stepping back up to them, as the Space Stone slipped into his left hand, once again.

The piercing cold fingers of the stone enveloped his mind again, as he concentrated and expanded the sensation to include his friends. A second later, the cloud of black and blue enveloped them – and deposited them into what looked to be an airfield.

“We’re just outside of London,” he said, stepping away from both of them, letting the icy sensation in his mind receded slightly. “Think the two of you can manage?”

He could see that Bucky still had questions, still wanted answers, but the pain and his injuries were getting to him. “Don’t… do—” Bucky began, huffing with each word.

“Anything stupid,” Steve finished up, nodding towards Michael – grateful that there was someone else here to make sure Bucky made it to the hospital. “Yeah, I know. I gave it all back to you, jerk.”

“Punk,” Steve heard him mutter, before the blue-black cloud enveloped him again.

This time, it was not just an uncomfortable sensation of cold that slammed into him in a mental sense, but also a physical one. The winds howled as Steve raised his arm to try to block the snow from blowing into his eyes. Using Mjolnir to clear the snow in front of him would’ve been a good idea, if Steve were not doubtful on how steady the ice floes below him were.

He could use Mjolnir to fly as Thor did at times, but with the weather as it were, it would be difficult enough to see anything from several hundred feet above. Where he had teleported to was what he remembered seeing from the various footage file SHIELD had on the place.

Pushing forward, Steve holstered Mjolnir at his side and held up both arms against his face. Bitterly cold winds whipped at his face, stinging him, but as Steve continued to walk, he thought he could see the shadow of something large looming in the distance.

He didn’t know how long it took him to get to the shadow, but his hunch was right – the war bomber was here. Going to where he hoped was the wing tip, Steve fought the aching cold within his body and leapt up. Scrabbling for purchase and grabbing onto whatever he could find, he slowly climbed up.

Hauling himself up onto the top of the structure, Steve gingerly made his way across and to what looked to be the fuselage of the bomber. It was slippery here, and the unrelenting winds were threatening to knock him off.

When he got to the center of the fuselage, Steve withdrew Mjolnir and placed the flat of it on the surface. It was going to be tricky, but without a good insight as to where exactly he was on the surface of the bomber, he couldn’t use the Space Stone to teleport in. He didn’t want to anyways – the less he felt the stones crawling through his mind, the better.

Raising Mjolnir slightly Steve swung it down, hoping that the force of it and the lightning was enough to carve a hole into the hull. The dull ring of the hammer hitting ice and into the hull was nearly lost to the winds. It took Steve three tries with the hammer for the structure to collapse into a jagged hole.

Holstering the hammer again, Steve waited a few seconds for the shift in the ice floe to subside. He hoped that it would hold for just long enough for him to get in, rescue his other self from here, and get out.

Jumping into the hole, Steve landed lightly onto the deck. He was not at the cockpit, but near it. The direct corridor to the cockpit was destroyed, but Steve hoped the secondaries were still intact. Gingerly and carefully, Steve made his way through the ice-covered stiff wires, hearing the wreckage groan with the shifting of the ice floes.

Pushing and wrenching the door open to the cockpit, Steve squeezed his way through. Carefully making his way forward to the cockpit chair, Steve couldn’t help but pause at the area where the Tesseract had been kept. The device was completely inert, but the hole where the cube had burned its way through was still there.

His shield was lying a little ways away from the base of the device. Picking it up, he absently hooked it onto his back, feeling a little better with the familiar weight of it sitting there. Yet, he knew that he shouldn’t get used to it. He was just a transient visitor to this time.

The bomber groaned and shifted again, forcing Steve to pause in his approach. It settled after a few minutes, but Steve was already looking at the cockpit chair in slight puzzlement. Stepping over to it, he frowned as he turned the chair to face him.

It was empty.

Looking around, Steve could see no overt sign that his body had flown out of the cockpit chair when he had crashed. The cockpit window was spidered with cracks, but there were no signs of blood splatters from cuts that indicated a body had gone through it.

Carefully walking around as the bomber shifted again, worry began to settle within him. Steve _remembered_ sitting in the chair, guiding the bomber down and the blackness claiming him on impact. He remembered seeing SHIELD footage of them discovering and thawing him out from the block of ice. He had no memory of being awake between the crash and his waking up in New York City in 2011.

So where was his body, in 1946?

_We both need to get a life._

_You first, Steve…_

Steve took one last look around, half-wondering why one of the heaviest conversation he had ever had with Natasha, had popped into his thoughts. It felt wrong, for him to remain… yet…

Peggy and Bucky, the two people he cherished the most, were alive. They were here, and he had even freed Bucky before HYDRA and the Soviets had a chance to turn him into the Winter Soldier.

Then what was holding him back?

Steve glanced over at the empty chair again, before a warm, soothing feeling suddenly blossomed into his mind. The weight of his trusty shield seemed to be a bit more solid, more comforting than ever before. Unsure as to what was causing the slightly strange feeling, Steve looked around—

At once, he felt a stone slip into his left hand. Glancing down, he opened his hand, only to find the Soul Stone resting in his palm. It always puzzled him as to what the purpose of the Soul Stone was, and what powers it contained. While sinister in the nature of how it was created, Steve thought that the stone was a leash of some sort – a way to channel or exert some ‘control’ over the other stones when being wielded.

Another burst of a soothing feeling filled him, causing him to recoil slightly. The feeling lessened, and he peered at the stone. Before he could examine it further, a rather loud _crack!_ filled the air. It was swiftly following by a groaning rumble through the decks. The floor beneath him began to feel greatly unsteady.

Stowing the stone back into its compartment, Steve knew that he couldn’t stay any longer on the wreckage. The Space Stone landed in his hand, as if by thought. Steve mentally grasped onto the ice-cold shards it offered, before being enveloped in a cloud of blue and black.

~*~*~*~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Go ahead and look up the coordinates mentioned at the beginning of the chapter. It’s an actual location, and became site to a White Alice Communications System during the Cold War. Because of it’s remoteness, it could’ve theoretically been a place where HYDRA embedded within the SSR (and eventually into SHIELD), or Soviet forces established a base of operations to carry out experiments and/or more dangerous weapons development. To also keep prying eyes away from Zola, Ivchenko, and other captured enemy scientists, the SSR could’ve moved them there as well – leaving a largely skeleton crew to guard them.


	2. Memory Extraction Session: ржавый

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of the scattered bits and pieces of the entwined memories in all of the sessions come from the Memory Chapters of [A Million Shards Falling](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14661462/chapters/33871146), and have been edited for clarity.

**Memory Extraction** **Session:** **ржавый**

_Even though the forest that they trudged through was mostly of the pine variety, there were occasionally a few trees that had leaves changing color. It added some life and splashes of color to the drab, dreary days upon end of them hunting down Krauts and HYDRA soldiers behind enemy lines._

_The only thing that Bucky appreciated at the moment was not the bright red-green-leafed tree that they had passed a few yards back._ _It_ _had been standing proudly near the creek._ _B_ _ucky appreciated_ _the fact that it was not cold as it had been for the past few days._

_The unusual warmth had followed an enormous windstorm that had plowed into the area a few days ago, forcing the Howling Commandos to take shelter in a cave for three days. The rain that had fallen had also caused the river to swell._

_That in turn had washed away the bridge that they had been hoping to cross. Thus they had been forced to ford the river a few miles more north where the water was not rushing down, and threatening to drag even Steve under._

_However, that rain had also caused the ground that they trampled on to become incredibly soggy. After he had fallen into a sinkhole up to his waist that thankfully only contained water, and climbed out, they had been a little more careful to tromp through the area. Unfortunately, he had to sweep the perimeter of their advance in wet clothes – hell, even his socks were wet…_

“What inanity have you extracted this time, Ivchenko?”

The nasal sharpness of Zola’s voice woke Bucky up. Or at least jolted him out of the listless fugue he had fallen into. A hazy blanket of pain and fever enveloped him, as he blinked and tried to focus his eyes on… whatever was ahead of him.

“Something possibly of interest, Zola,” came the conversational, almost lighthearted reply—

… _It was not B_ _ucky’s_ _fault that the sinkhole water produced a rather unpleasant smell, though it kept the swarms away. The rest of the commandos were just going to have to deal with the foul smell until they were dried._

 _Turning towards the formerly soggy, but somewhat dried pack that he had been carrying, he dug around to try to find the shovel. While_ _Bucky_ _normally_ _used it to create foxholes, considering how far back they were behind enemy lines, they needed more of an in-ground hearth than a campfire. The in-ground hearth would be easier and quicker to douse with the dirt, should any German or HYDRA soldiers breach their perimeter._

… ржавый…

 _Frowning as he continued to dig around, feeling some really strange mud-like texture within his pack, he continued to rummage about. After a minute of digging around,_ _Bucky_ _pulled his hand out, only to find it covered in mud._

_He wondered where his shovel went; it had been in his pack yesterday when he had finished digging several holes to bury and hide the scraps of bone and skin from the rabbits they had caught and ate._

_Seeing that he had no other choice, Bucky overturned his pack and emptied it of its contents. Half of what had been inside of the pack fell out among a mass of red-brown mud, along with an extremely foul smell that had him gagging._

… ржавый…

“ _Aw, shit,” he heard Morita exclaim, just as Falsworth echoed the sentiment…_

“Functional memories—”

“Do not govern the Sergeant here,” Ivchenko interrupted Zola.

Bucky tried to turn his head to look towards the voices, but only succeeded in making himself extremely dizzy. He knew that he was strapped to a chair, feverish and in a lot of pain, but not enough to pass out into blissful oblivion. They… he… Ivchenko was somehow forcing him to stay awake—

“The memory command for the first extraction is sealed, and you are erased from it, Zola,” Ivchenko continued to say. “It is the catalyst point for the transformation.”

Silence answered Ivchenko, before Zola asked, “What… Are you able to say the command, without consequences?”

“The command is: желание,” Ivchenko simply stated—

“ _James...Buchanan...Barnes...”_

_It was hard to breathe, much less talk. Bucky knew that if he kept repeating his name, rank, and serial number, maybe... just maybe they would stop, make it all stop._

_He could feel himself involuntarily arch slightly as something burned inside of him, starting at his right elbow. That fire crawled up his arm and he could feel it spreading across his chest with each pounding beat of his heart. Someone one was muttering something…_

Bucky tried to cry out, but nothing left his lips, except for a hoarse, dry cough. He could **feel** something crawling through his thoughts, leaving small, sharply painful tears inside of him. He could hear Zola’s laughter in his thoughts – or was that actual laughter? It was difficult to tell—

… _heavy eyelids scraped over his eyes as he blinked. Surely he was dreaming; the face peering over at him couldn't be—_

“ _Steve?” he whispered. He desperately hoping that it was true, and that he was not seeing his best friend's face in the last moments of his life._

“ _Hang on, I'll get you free.”_

_Maybe he was dying, maybe that bald-headed, white-coated man was finally putting end to his misery…_

“… _joined the army,” Steve quipped before readjusting his hold on him. “Come on, we got to go.”_

_Bucky wanted to laugh, wanted to cry, wanted to say a dozen absurd things to Steve, to thank him, but he was spent. There was nothing he could do or give at the moment – he was too exhausted and in too much pain. Despite it all, his longing for death had been granted a reprieve, and he wasn't about to waste it._

_All he could do now was survive, because he longed to live…_

Were those his tears? Bucky tried to scream, tried desperately to grasp onto the memory of Steve – of those blue-green eyes that had filled him with hope—

… _Bucky was sure that he could remain in his clothes while in the river, considering what the potential culprit had done to his supplies, he wanted to make sure that every inch of his skin was thoroughly buffeted by the water. He didn't want anything of the potential contaminated sinkhole water and silt he had fallen into, to remain on him. However, he also knew that he couldn't stay in the water for long – it was too damn cold._

… ржавый…

_Surfacing, he heard an unexpected voice exclaim, “Bucky!”_

_Looking up and over,_ _Bucky_ _saw Steve crouched along the shore, extending a hand towards him. Grateful, he grabbed on and with Steve's help, was lifted out of the eddy pool, though he reached back to grab the pieces of clothing with one hand._

 _Though he was completely naked, he didn't care as he sat down on the ground, not realizing how exhausted he was._ _Bucky_ _hadn't realized just how much of a fight he had put up with the current in the eddy pool until now. His wet clothes had been dumped to the ground, but he would wring the water out of them in a few minutes._

… ржавый…

_Steve sat down next to him, but despite how tired he was, Bucky couldn't help but laugh. A few moments later, Steve joined in, in the laughter – his chuckles to Bucky's outright laughter._

_It reminded Bucky of the first time he and Steve had went to Coney Island, and the first time he had jumped into the water at the end of the pier. Steve had panicked, remaining on the pier until he had surfaced._

_He had then tried to convince_ _Steve_ _to jump into the water as well, though back then, he hadn't realized just how strong the current at the end of the pier had been. It had been a good thing that Steve had been a stubborn ass and refused to jump in._

_Bucky had spent the rest of the day, after getting out of the water, using Steve's lap as a pillow and sleeping until the sun had set. Their first grand adventure on Coney Island had turned out to be a simple, ordinary, lazy summer day._

“ _Need a nap?” Steve asked in between chuckles._

“ _No,” he snorted, nudging his best friend with an elbow. “But thanks for the offer, punk.”_

_The laughter and lightness in Steve's eyes died as Bucky frowned slightly, wondering why there was a searching look in Steve's eyes…_

“Ah, that was an unexpected reaction to the command,” Ivchenko said, sounding insincerely apologetic.

“Unexpected,” Zola flatly stated, unimpressed. “You have had plenty of time to practice your techniques on the other prisoner. I cannot do my work if your ‘techniques’ result in the commands canceling each other out—”

“And this is a delicate operation, Zola,” Ivchenko interrupted. “I used functional memories with the other prisoner, in the first experiment. Emotional memories are better for extraction, but they must be refined and eased through a more pliable method—”

“ **If** it works with your proposed methodology of electroshock therapy—”

“Which, might I remind you, that you are in charge of that portion of the project. We both will share full responsibility of the consequences—”

Bucky finally managed to move his eyes ever so slightly up and over towards the two arguing scientists. He could barely follow what they were saying, but beyond the two was a spherical-like structure. Hovering as if it were a nightmarishly large image within the sphere was Steve, frozen in time with a searching look—

… _New York City summers were the worst, in Bucky’s opinion. Not only was it constantly hot and sticky – even at night – walking on the sidewalks and roads made it feel more like an oven roast on Easter. But the worst thing that Bucky hated about summer was that the Shipyards never stopped their work._

 _The furnaces, smelting, hammering, welding, and so many other tasks kept going day after day. Thus, entering_ _his apartment felt like a_ _blessing_ _of coolness. The windows were open, and there was some breeze going through, but Bucky surmised that t_ _he floor his apartment was on was high enough for him to do this._ _**He** _ _wouldn’t be embarrassed by what he was about to do, but he didn’t want the police to be called on him_ _by_ _passerby_ _for doing thi_ _s._

 _Stripping out of his coveralls_ _and everything underneath it, including his socks and heavy boots, Bucky kicked everything to the side._ _He closed his eyes and took a deep, relaxing breath._ _It felt so much better to bathe naked in the coolness of the breeze coming in through the windows—_

“ _Um.”_

 _B_ _ucky whirled around, eyes opening wide. Steve was standing at the threshold between the small kitchen that doubled as a living room, and the tiny bedroom with their bunk bed._ _Bucky had forgotten that he was now sharing an apartment with Steve—_

“ _Sorry,” he said, going over to pick up his clothes._

“ _Nope, it’s fine,”_ _Steve_ _quickly stated._ _Steve walked_ _right between B_ _ucky_ _and the pile of clothes, strangely beet red._

“ _It’s really hot, and you’_ _ve_ _just returned from work,” Steve said, taking a seat at the tiny dining table that doubled as a work table. “It must have been incredibly stifling at the Shipyards,”_ _Steve continued to say, as Bucky saw him p_ _lace his sketch pad and today’s newspaper on the table._

 _B_ _ucky remained where he was for a few moments, noticing that Steve was reluctant to even look at him when he had stated those words._ _His best friend was still flushed red— “It’s not fine,” he stated, going over and picking up his clothes._

 _It had been three, almost four long years since they had gone swimming together. They had been fourteen back then – still both rail skinny,_ _all bones,_ _lanky, and growing. Steve had spent the past few years caring for his ailing mother,_ _before she had died –_ _and had not time to go swimming, much less do anything else_ _._

 _After S_ _teve’s mother died_ _, Steve had lived alone for about_ _four_ _months._ _Then,_ _Steve had admitted to being three months behind rent at that apartment. Bucky had cajoled him to get an apartment with him; to split the rent and bills._ _That had been just after the end of winter._

_This was the first time Steve had seen him all grown up, and naked._

“ _I’m sorry, Steve,” he said, heading towards the bedroom. “I’m embarrassing you—”_

“ _You’re not,” came the quiet admission._

 _Bucky paused_ _at the threshold, turning slightly to see Steve still working at the table, hunched over. There was tension written all over Steve though. Bucky placed the pile down, but did not turn around to walk back._ _Instead he took his_ _coverall and began to put it back on—_

“ _I bet all the girls_ _you’ve dated_ _appreciate the view, so if you need to practice, go ahead and practice—”_

“ _What?!”_ _Bucky had paused in pulling up his coverall uniform,_ _and immediately knotted_ _the rest of the uniform around his waist. “What the hell?” he demanded, going back to where his best friend was sitting._

“ _Nothing,” Steve said, giving him a quick glance before going back to the political cartoon he was sketching. “Forget i_ _t,_ _”_ _Bucky heard him grouse._

 _A_ _s much as Bucky wanted to reach out and shake some sense into him, he refrained from doing so. He was not a bully, and this was Steve. “_ _Steve,”_ _he stated, trying not to put his anger into that one demanding word._

“ _I said forget it,” Steve said, sliding himself and his chair_ _away from him_ _. “_ _Forget what I said, and go do whatever the hell—”_

“ _Steve,” Bucky repeated, this time a little less forceful._

_He reached out to place a hand on his best friend’s shoulder, wondering where this unexpected anger, much less biting words came from. To his surprise, Steve leaned away. Bucky withdrew his hand, taking a step back._

“ _Steve, where is this coming from?”_ _he asked._ _“I’m sorry for doing that. I forgot that you were_ _living_ _here—”_

 _I_ _f there was any more tension that could encompass Steve’s skinny body, it tried to. B_ _ucky_ _saw_ _him shake his head rather vigorously, stopping him from continuing to say anything._ _Bucky_ _fell silent, but did not reach out_ _with his hand again._

“ _Why did God give you an Adonis-like body, and me, a frail one?”_

 _The question had been whispered so quietly that Bucky thought he had imagined it. But Steve squeeze_ _d_ _his eyes shut, tension and misery envelop_ _ing_ _him,_ _with_ _his_ _hands_ _curled in fists – Bucky realized he was seeing jealousy from Steve as clear as a sunny day._ _At that very moment, he also realized_ _that he had made an even larger mistake than just stripping._

“ _God gave you a talent for art that cannot be compared, Steve. He also gave you a_ _brilliant_ _mind that will one day, take you out of this m_ _iserable hell hole_ _. If the girls that I’ll ask on a date on_ _your behalf_ _can’t see that, then they’re not worth your time, Steve,”_ _he stated._

 _Silence enveloped the two of them for a few long moments, before_ _the tension surrounding Steve_ _suddenly_ _fled in one breath. Bucky saw him hesitatingly glance up,_ _hastily_ _wiping tears from his eyes. He reached out and placed his hand on Steve’s shoulder, squeezing it._

“ _It’s a promise,” he solemnly stated._

“ _Thanks,” Steve said, sniffling while smiling. A bark of self-loathing laughter emerged from his lips, as Bucky heard him say, “I must be out of my mind to have thought that of you. I’m sorry.”_

 _T_ _he edge of Bucky’s lips quirked up in a smile. He couldn’t help but gently retort, “_ _Well, if you’re saying that my_ _stripping_ _act needs to be refined in order to perform at Minsky’s—”_

_Steve rolled his eyes at Bucky, causing both of them to laugh. “You’re lucky we live on the third floor, Bucky,” Steve stated._

_Bucky snorted, before letting Steve’s shoulder go. He returned to where he had left the rest of this clothes and boots. “You free Friday night, Steve?”_

“ _Yeah,” Steve answered._

“ _Good,” he said, picking up the pile. “Because I’m going to see if Dot has a friend. We’re going to go on a double-date, Steve.”_

The humming noise that Ivchenko made caused Bucky to blink as another bout of dizziness clawed at him. He gasped and coughed, feeling his chest pound as the fever continued to ravage him. The sphere that had held Steve’s face with the searching look was still up there.

“How strange,” Ivchenko stated. “The graphs recorded activity from a memory, but nothing on the sphere changed...”

“Perhaps there is more resistance within him that you have yet to discover,” Zola snidely stated. “After all, I do remember Sergeant Barnes here being incredibly resistant to my **careful** chemicalministrations—“

“Which you have not successfully replicated in any of the subjects that the Motherland allowed to be altered—”

“Your motherland, Ivechenko,” Zola sharply said. “Not mine.”

Blissful silence fell between the two, but it didn’t last long as Bucky heard footsteps approach. He tried to follow the man named Ivchenko with his eyes, but the dizziness was too much for him to bear. Steve’s image in the sphere seemed to swim this way and that—

“Focus, Winter Soldier. Focus...” he heard Ivchenko’s voice hum and drone in a gentle manner near his left ear.

A slithering sensation of warmth seemed to enter him from his ear, spreading slowly across his head and then down his body. It was uncomfortable to the point where Bucky wanted to squirm and physically wrench himself away from it—

… _Steve murmured, “Turn slightly to your right. There's nothing on this side to indicate that the sinkhole water's done anything to you.”_

_Bucky obliged, shifting slightly. Somehow, despite the intensity in Steve's eyes, he did not feel any discomfort. It was unlike when the doctors at camp had performed physical check-ups on all of the former prisoners to make sure that they were still fit for duty._

… ржавый…

_The doctor who had examined him when it had been his turn had made him feel very uncomfortable, even though he had not been questioned during the checkup, and only had a stethoscope pressed against his chest. He never had been afraid of a doctor, but since being rescued from the HYDRA facility, he couldn't shake that uncomfortable feeling._

“ _Well, nothing,” Steve said after a few moments, as Bucky returned to sitting in his original position. “Looks like the water was only interested in making whatever metal things you carried into mud.”_

“ _Still externally 'Adonis'?” he joked…_

… ржавый…

_...Scooping up his clothes and draping it all over him in an attempt to cover as much of his body as possible without slogging through wet clothes, he felt Steve clap his hand over his shoulder saying, “At least Vera hasn't rusted into mud.”_

… ржавый…

“You see there, Zola? That flare of brightness enveloped in the emotional context of the memory?”

“Yes...” Zola said, almost purring. “Fascinating.”

Bucky tried to peer up again, to see what was happening, but the warmth worming its way through him held him still—

“Focus...” Ivchenko gently hummed into Bucky’s ear again. “Listen to the sound of my voice...”

… ржавый…

“ _That's my girl,” Bucky said, smiling half in relief._

_His beloved sniper rifle with the out-of-regulations divot at the end of the barrel, had not turned into a foul-smelling gloop. It was still intact, mainly thanks to his quick thinking of raising it high above in the air when he had plunged into the sinkhole…_

… ржавый…

“That is the functional memory?” Zola asked.

“Yes. Now I shall wrap it around the emotional memory, and embed the command: ржавый, like so…” Ivchenko began.

Bucky screamed – or at least he tried to. No sound came out of his mouth except for a weak, choking cough. It was swiftly followed by the blindingly agonizing pain of a thousand knives tearing through him—

~*~*~*~


	3. Interval

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Theme: '[Interval](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bSOUaSLU_yM)' by Ninja Tracks

**Chapter 2:** **Interval**

_1948, London..._

_He screamed – or at least he tried to. No sound came out of his mouth except for a weak, choking cough. It was swiftly followed by the blindingly agonizing pain of a thousand knives tearing through him —_

Bucky snapped his eyes open.

His breath was harsh against his ears; heart beating like a drum in his chest. He was not injured, even if it felt like he had just been stabbed multiple times—

Shoving what little sheets covered him to the side, he got up and headed into the bathroom. The light in the small bathroom was harsh, but it was welcomed. He didn’t squint against the sudden brightness and instead stared at the reflection of his visage for a brief moment.

He turned on the water and plunged his cupped hands into the stream. Bucky splashed his face several times until it felt like he was drowning. It was the only way he could try to get rid of the feeling – however little the action provided.

Bucky stared at the running water for a few seconds, before his eyes strayed to his gleaming silver, metal left hand. Droplets dripped down into the sink, as he gripped the sides of the sink, and tired not to scream. It looked like rain in a lake, tasted like salt—

A hand appeared in the corner of his vision, turning the faucet off. Moments later, warm, comforting arms gently embraced him from behind. He hadn’t realized just how cold he was, lightly pressed against the warm, comforting body of his lover.

“I woke you,” he murmured. “I’m sorry.”

Frustration slowly replaced the shame he felt as the last vestiges of his nightmare for today swirled away with the last of the water within the sink. He was not even a half day returned home, and the nightmares still plagued him. He thought that by agreeing to the mission – however long it took – that it would help put to rest the awful memories that haunted him.

It had taken over a year to complete the mission—

“You’re home, you’re safe.”

The murmur had been whispered against his back; containing only understanding that Bucky didn’t think he’d deserve. Not after being away for over a year… not after what they both had been through… not after—

Bucky curled his damp right hand around the hands of his lover that rested against his chest. Just as he was about to answer, a knock at the apartment door interrupted him. He glanced over at the grandfather clock in the bedroom – exactly six in the morning.

He hadn’t even gotten five hours of sleep, much less restful sleep.

“She’s early,” he stated, letting go and stepped out of the envelope of warmth. “Go back to bed. This shouldn’t take long.”

Going over to where he had discarded the collared shirt he had worn the day before, he plucked it up and put it on, buttoning only a few buttons in a slightly haphazard manner. He could greet the woman at the door with only shorts and wearing nothing else, but he didn’t. She wouldn’t have bat an eye at his appearance anyways. The past year had revealed more details about her to him and vice versa, than he had ever cared to know.

Bucky opened the door to the apartment, just as the woman was about to knock a second time. Piercing eyes like his own raked up and down at his appearance, but there wasn’t any sort of intent behind it – just a physical health assessment of him. Until recently, he had never realized that she always did that whenever he had come home after a day of roughhousing.

“Mother,” he simply greeted.

“James,” she answered.

Before this mission, before he had been deployed in the war, he called her ‘Mom’. After he had found out what she was, had done, and was still doing, it didn’t feel right to call her that with any affection. She was… for the lack of a better term he had for her – a contemporary of him in espionage and assassination skills.

He stepped to the side and she stepped in. Closing the door, he didn’t bother taking her coat and instead, gestured for her to go forward and into the kitchen. There was a small dining table shoved to the corner, and he gestured for her to take a seat.

As strained and twisted beyond recognition their relationship as mother-son was, Bucky still cared about her. Firing up the stove, he began boiling water for the coffee. He would’ve brewed tea, but neither of them were behind enemy lines, and thus, had no need for a самовар for заварка.

The black, potent liquid was quickly brewed and poured. Bucky silently carried over two cups, placing one in front of her. The sugar bowl was already on the table, and he knew that she didn’t like cream or milk in any of her drinks – just like him.

“Did you get some sleep?” she asked after a few minutes of stirring the sugar into her cup.

“No,” he answered, sipping his coffee. “Where did you stay the night?”

“A friend’s place,” she answered.

He would have pressed for a less vague answer, but knew that she would never reveal what ‘friend’s place’ was. Instead, he got down to the reason why she was here, asking, “Your report?”

Instead of verbally answering him, she placed her cup down and pulled out a folder from the shoulder bag she was carrying. She placed it on the table and slid it over to him. Bucky reached over with his good hand, and tried to pick it up, but she didn’t remove her hand.

“I think it may do us both some good if you didn’t come home for Christmas this year, James,” she stated.

The words stung, but Bucky understood why, and nodded in agreement. “I had other plans anyways, Mother,” he stated.

He would have to write or call his sisters near that time to make up an excuse as to why he couldn’t come home, again. It would be five, no six years now that he hadn’t been home in New York City for Christmas. He was starting to get used to it.

The first two times had been the easiest – he had been serving in the 107th, specifically with the Howling Commandos and fighting in the war. The third time was 1945 – he had been a prisoner of HYDRA yet again, and everyone had thought of him dead. The fourth – he had been in the hospital, still recovering from his injuries after being rescued by Steve. The fifth had been a little harder – he had been out in the field completing the mission with his mother. This was now the sixth time—

“My sister has invited us to spend Christmas at her place, Mrs. Barnes. We’ll be just outside of the city, should you change your mind.”

Michael Carter’s strong, warm arms enveloped him again, but only for a brief moment. He felt Michael gently press his lips against his left temple, and did not shy away. Michael then let go, and walked over to the stove to start making breakfast.

As expected, there was no reaction from Bucky’s mother to the abbreviated display of affection he had received from his lover. She knew about his preferences for women _and_ men – it was the same with her, except that she had been specifically _trained_ to seduce both men and women. He hadn’t – he naturally liked both.

Yet, for all of her training, she had fallen in love and married James Barnes, Sr. Bucky had learned that her marriage to his father had been both out of duty, and the need for protection.

The protection aspect of his parents’ union was not from being discovered about her mission-specific predilections for the same sex. It had been to bring her into the fold after the fall of the Tsar – to bring her in from the cold as a turned Imperial Russian spy.

His mother was supposed to be embedded within her former home country as a double agent. The operation had failed, until attempts to resurrect the mission had been done during the war with the Special Operations Executive branch and MI5 – but within the Soviet Union. That too, had failed…

…until his mother had agreed to be reactivated, and work with him to close out Operation Midnight.

Midnight’s purpose was no longer to embed, but to destroy all fantastical weapons capabilities that the Soviets had. It started with the damnable ring that the SSR had encountered in Estonia, finding prisoners long thought dead – Michael having been one of them – and—

Bucky stopped his thoughts, focusing back on the present. His mother had let the folder go, and Bucky slid it to the side. He would look at it later – if necessary. He met the simple, neutral look that his mother was giving him, with one of equal intensity.

“Have a good flight home, Mother,” he said, ending her reason to be here.

“Be careful, James,” she stated, getting up.

Without another word to him, or to Michael, she left. Bucky sat at the table, staring at still steaming cup of coffee that had been barely touched by her. He didn’t know what to think about his mother – now that their own secrets had both been laid to bare on the mission. There were just so many things he wished he didn’t know about her, and things that he wished that she didn’t know about him—

“I get the feeling that she doesn’t approve of me,” Michael’s voice interrupted his thoughts.

A moment later, a plate of eggs and toast slid into his vision. He blinked and glanced up to see Michael taking the seat that had been vacated a few minutes ago, pushing aside the barely touched coffee. There was also a breakfast plate in his hand.

“She… doesn’t care who I date, have sex, love, or live with,” Bucky answered, poking around at the food before taking a few bites. Due to his nightmare, he had no appetite, but Michael had generously cooked the meal; Bucky could not let it go to waste.

“She did, until… well, until she agreed to carry out the mission,” he amended. “She always had a fondness for Steve, so it’s not you. She just thinks that no one else I’ve committed to, can compare to him. She said as much, into my face… shortly after Christmas last year.”

“That is quite harsh.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, apologetic. He hadn’t meant for the words to come out that unpleasant. Nevertheless, the words he had heard from his mother had been decidedly more vicious and cutting than what he had just said. “I—”

Michael shook his head, saying, “I wanted to know, and now I know. But… she doesn’t know that Steve’s alive, yeah?”

“She doesn’t,” he answered, glancing down at his still mostly full plate. “Have you found out anything?”

“Nothing,” Michael said. “I’ve turned over every rock that I could find, and there’s no one that held a knife over Steve’s head back then. All the stories are the same – everyone thought… they still think he’s dead.”

“And Peggy?” he quietly asked.

“As happy as I’ve ever seen her be,” Michael answered. Bucky looked back up to see him with a small, satisfied smile on his face. “She told me she had her doubts, but it looks like whatever Steve had agreed to with whomever, they’re letting him be. According to her – and I’ve also seen this first hand, last November – Steve is enjoying the life of anonymity and doesn’t show signs of moving from that.”

As happier as Bucky wanted to feel, he couldn’t make himself be so. He was sure that there was some entity somewhere blackmailing Steve, or waiting for the most opportune time to—

Bucky mentally sighed and tried to shake off his doubts. It was mostly what Steve used to break both him and Michael out of whatever the hell HYDRA prison that had been, that seeded those doubts.

He had been in a lot of pain, almost to the point where he couldn’t even put one step forward after the other. But it was the armor that Steve wore, and _how_ his best friend had gotten from place to place during the rescue that looked… advanced.

HYDRA’s weapons had been a pain in the ass to contend with. The only saving grace they had to even the odds were because of Stark and his teams’ creations. Steve’s weapons and armor did not match what he knew of Stark and his creations, or HYDRA weapons.

It was also the inconsistencies that he had read about, with regards to Zola being held there. The reports he had read after he had ‘died’ stated that Zola had indeed been captured. Personal recounts by his fellow Howling Commandos had stated that Steve almost murdered Zola twice while they were bringing the scientist into custody. All the files said was Zola was kept as a prisoner somewhere in England for the remainder of the war, before being transferred to the isolated island.

He didn’t doubt Steve seeing Zola in the base, but he did wonder what exactly the base was and who really controlled it. Records stated that the SSR owned it. The records also stated that the SSR placed some of Stark’s more dangerous weapons there.

In that context, Bucky could agree with the fact that Zola was considered a ‘dangerous’ weapon – namely his mind. But arming guards solely with HYDRA weapons seemed to go against all that the SSR had been fighting against. Of course, he could attribute it to the SSR not wanting to take any chances of their ‘dangerous’ weapons escaping.

But it didn’t make sense – especially if the SSR _knew_ who he was; then why keep him there?

He had no answer, and it worried him.

“Going to see her in a couple of days then?” he asked.

“You should come if you can, Bucky. Don’t be a stranger, please,” Michael said. “I’m sure word is going to reach her by the time she goes in to work, that you’ve returned. Steve and her - they’ll be happy to see you, as well.”

“November 5th,” Bucky said, shaking his head slightly. It was a tradition that Peggy had introduced to Steve and him: the burning of one regret in a campfire, so that regret could no longer weigh upon one’s thoughts.

“Come on,” Michael said, reaching out and briefly squeezed his flesh-and-blood hand. “You’ve just returned. Eat up. You’re not Steve, but there’s a lot of people on base who miss your rakishly daring presence. You’ve got a long day ahead with them.”

He gave Michael a slightly dubious look, but nodded and began to eat. He was still not hungry, but he knew that he had a long day ahead, no matter what Michael stated. Most of it would be taken up by the debrief with Philips and possibly others from MI5.

He could worry about Steve later.

~~~

_Just Outside of New York City…_

It was past midnight, and well past the usual time that most people would be asleep. But Peggy was used to staying up at all odd hours of the night. Most of it was due to her duties as an agent of the SSR. Some of it was due to an irrational part of her that was still in disbelief that the man she loved was really here.

She and Steve had been quietly married for over a year now. He had unexpectedly shown up at her door shortly after news had reached her that her brother had been found alive. She had known then that somehow, Steve had survived the crash and also carried out whatever mission or rescue it had been, to get her brother back.

Yet, there had been days – long ones, mainly – that she sometimes doubted what she saw whenever she entered her home. Those doubts never lasted long, but she had noticed that Steve had become more quiet, more withdrawn. Not from her, but seemingly from the world and everything that governed her work.

She had not asked him about how he had survived, or what he had been through before he had re-entered her life. Just one look into his mesmerizing blue-green eyes showed her an occasional glimpse of pain. Whatever it was a remnant of, it was enough for her to put her questions aside, and simply enjoy their reunion.

At this very moment though, she watched him, sitting in the second bedroom in their house sketching something by moonlight. The quiet life was Steve’s life now, and Peggy thought he deserved it. Steve wasn’t a recluse, but spent most of his time sketching and submitting political cartoons and illustrations under an alias.

The only strangeness to their lives was that Steve wished to remain dead to all but herself, her brother, and Bucky. Peggy understood why Steve wanted to live his life that way, but trying to convince him to let at least Howard know that he was alive had become their first and only argument thus far in their married lives.

She respected his wishes to not let Howard know, but it also hurt her to see their friend living life still in mourning for Steve. At the moment, she was a little glad that Howard had been quite busy with his fledgling movie studio in California, and expansion of Stark Industries there. The distance made the secret she kept from him more palatable.

While her marriage to Steve had been done quietly, she elected not to wear her ring openly. Instead, she strung it around a necklace that she kept under her blouse. It made her work and interaction with the men at the SSR easier.

“Hey,” Steve’s gentle, apologetic tone shook Peggy out of her thoughts. “Am I keeping you up? I’ll be in bed in a few minutes, after I put this away—”

“No, no,” she answered, shaking her head as she smiled at him and approached. He opened his right arm up, and she slipped underneath it, snuggling slightly against him. “After what happened a couple of days ago, I’m used to staying awake for now,” she continued, looking up at him.

She saw him frown slightly, asking, “That’s been resolved, right?”

“It has,” she answered, nodding. “We could all use the quiet for the next few days, before a new crisis erupts.” Shaking her head slightly, she glanced down at the sketch that Steve was working on.

It looked like an expanse of an airplane cockpit hurtling through something. She could guess stars, but it also looked like lines of fire – of flying through a fireball. Where such a vivid image came from was unknown, but she could reasonably guess that it came from Steve’s dreams.

He had such vivid dreams at times; sometimes waking up shouting someone’s name, or even issuing strange orders in his sleep. Some sounded as if they had been from what he had seen and done during the war – others from elsewhere.

Where he had been for over the year since he had crashed the Red Skull’s war bomber, to showing up at her door was a complete mystery. But Peggy had to guess that some of the sketches she saw were of that missing time in both of their lives. Even as quiet and withdrawn as he was, Steve never hid any of his sketches from her.

Steve’s nightmares and dreams were another reason why she felt he deserved the life of peace and quiet. He had seen and done too much during the war – more than she had. Yet, Steve still gave her the strength to continue to protect the world as he had done.

It was her turn now, to protect the world – in her husband’s name, and for the future.

* * *

 _Later,_ _London…_

The SSR Headquarters was no longer in London, but had moved to New York City after the end of the war. With the apparent loss of Steve during the final months of the war, Colonel Chester Philips had also been summarily dismissed from his post as soon as the war ended. The man had been living in forced retirement just outside of London when he, Bucky, and Michael had been found and freed.

MI5 had then approached Philips with a bold proposal: aid them in the completion of Operation Midnight, and they would help stand up a SSR branch to safeguard the Western Europe. A line had been drawn between the Soviet bloc and the West – and there were many who feared Communism would destroy them all.

Philips had agreed to the proposal, but had surprisingly sought Bucky’s opinion and agreement to participate in Operation Midnight. After working for the man as his assassin during the war, Bucky thought Philips would just order him to participate. The completion of Operation Midnight had been discussed by Philips and MI5 prior to the mission to capture Zola.

Given the choice by Philips, and after what he had been through, Bucky agreed. During the war, elements of the Soviets had shown that they had been willing to work with HYDRA to acquire advance weapons. Their greed was their downfall – Bucky made sure of it.

At the present, it seemed that the higher ups of MI5 and Philips were done with their questions for his debrief. Bucky was certain that there would be more questions in the coming days, but plenty about the mission details had been told. Some of it had been incredibly gruesome – the way targets associated with the operation had been killed; others more intimate – seducing and sleeping with targets that had the necessary information.

Nothing had been spared.

It was mainly thanks to the stone faces that both Philips and an original former participant of Operation Midnight – MI5 Senior Agent Samuel Brewster – that Bucky managed to describe some of the sexual details that he had to perform on female targets without faltering. Others listening to the debrief, had become highly uncomfortable.

One thing that he was glad that he had not had to detail to the others was what he had seen or listened to, when his mother seduced targets. All the details had been written in her report that she had given him that morning. He hadn’t read it, and didn’t need to – he knew what was in it. It was why the relationship between his mother and him was now strained – and why she didn’t want him home for Christmas.

He knew too much about his mother – details that no one except for her husband, should know. It was the same with her – she knew too much about him – nothing that a mother should ever know or care to know about her son.

It was the only way Operation Midnight could be brought to a close; and the fantastical weapons that the Soviets had, destroyed.

Philips and Brewster knew the stakes – especially what had happened to the SSR in a shadow war against elements of Soviet espionage, and Soviet science divisions. It was also why Bucky respected what they said and did, and dismissed all the other brass who had attended the briefing as nothing more than pencil pushers.

The war was over, but the more sinister, political war was quickly becoming a Cold War – both in nuclear capabilities, and technological ones. It was clear to Bucky now that the front lines were not won by soldiers, but by agents, proxies – by the shadows.

And it was exactly where he wanted to be – his own nightmares notwithstanding.

As the MI5 brass filed out, he heard Philips say, “Barnes, a word.”

“Yes, sir,” he answered, remaining in his seat.

As soon as the last MI5 brass left, closing the planning room door, Philips set aside some of the reports that had been written up for the mission. Among those was the one his mother had handed to him. Copies would most likely be circulated to MI5 later, but for now, his commander had the only copy.

“I’d hate to do this to you, since you’ve just returned, Barnes,” Philips began, folding his hands together. “But, the wolves have been clamoring at my door for the past two months. I’ve only been able to hold them at bay until you returned.”

“Sir?” Bucky questioned, frowning.

“The brass back home want you to transfer to SSR-East Coast,” Philips said.

“Sir, I don’t want to,” he immediately protested. “You know why, and you know that I’d rather quit first—”

“Son, I know,” Philips interrupted him. “It’s why I arranged for a short tour of duty there, instead of a full transfer.”

Bucky was silent for a few moments, his frown growing more pronounced. “Short,” he repeated.

“Two months at the most, Barnes,” Philips stated. “You should be back here by Christmas.”

Bucky considered his options. He had been made aware of SSR-East Coast’s interest in him just before he had left for his mission to complete Operation Midnight. While another agent may have found it flattering that Headquarters was doing the song and dance of recruitment, Bucky found it slightly suspicious.

He had read up on the dossiers of the agents in SSR-East Coast. All of the agents who served there were veterans of the war – both in Europe and in the Pacific. However, none of them had ever encountered or fought against HYDRA… except for Peggy. She was the only female agent actively serving in the SSR when SSR-Europe had been stood up.

Lorraine, Philips’ former spy-secretary during the war, became the second active female agent. There were a couple of other female agents within SSR-Europe, but Peggy was still the only female agent in SSR-East Coast, and still their only highly experienced agent. At least that was Bucky’s opinion, based on the cases that SSR-East Coast had solved.

Among the cases had been the capture of Dr. Ivchenko, and the removal of the damnable ring he wore. Somewhere during the prisoner transport of Ivchenko and the ring weapon – separate transports – SSR-East Coast had lost the ring. It had ended up in Soviet possession again, where Bucky had found and destroyed it late last year.

While it was natural to think that SSR-East Coast needed bolstering for experience, the cases solved were difficult enough to not justify transferring SSR-Europe agents over. Especially when SSR-Europe was primarily tasked with cleaning up HYDRA. One would have thought the opposite: agents wanting to transfer over to SSR-Europe to get more experience.

It was not the case, and it was also primarily thanks to MI-5’s intervention that SSR-Europe did not become a political tool as SSR-East Coast had become. That was the primary reason Bucky never wanted to transfer to Headquarters. He had seen the effects of what being a political pawn in the game did to Steve.

The secondary, and the excuse that Bucky verbally used, was that New York City had too many memories of Steve there. Everyone else in the world thought Steve was dead, and thus at the request of his best friend, Bucky remained silent.

It was natural for Peggy to transfer to Headquarters, due to her not having a lot of memories of Steve while in New York, but Bucky grew up in the city with Steve. Staying in Europe was his ‘excuse’. He wanted to see Steve again, wanted to enjoy the days with him again, but he also wanted to continue to serve and protect – to hold up Steve’s ideals.

“Will it be enough to placate them?” he asked, getting back to the matter at hand. He was worried that this was going to become a periodic thorn at his side.

“Do what you need to do, Barnes,” Philips answered, nodding once. “Your flight leaves tomorrow morning at 0700. One of the secretaries will have your travel details at your desk shortly. Dismissed.”

* * *

_November 4 th, 1948, SSR Headquarters, New York City… _

“Rose, would you please hand me those folder in the corner there marked ‘Ni to Ny’?” Peggy asked, reaching backwards.

When the weight she had expected didn’t land in her hand, she glanced back, only to see that Rose had stepped away from helping her file the folders in archives. The telephone operator-cum-part time secretarial help was watching someone walk into the bullpen.

“Hello tall, dark, and handsome,” she heard Rose murmur appreciatively.

Curious, Peggy went over to where Rose was and stood on her tiptoes to look over Rose’s shoulder. Her eyes widened slightly in surprise as she saw Bucky walking by. He was dressed as sharply as any other agent within the SSR – with his dark grey duster and fedora tucked to the side. The only marked difference was that he wore black gloves on both hands, and was carrying a briefcase and small suitcase.

She had gotten a welcomed phone call from her brother a day ago, stating that Bucky had finally returned home to England. The relief and happiness that she heard in Michael’s tone made her happy – not just for her brother’s own happiness, but also that Bucky had survived the secretive mission SSR-Europe had sent him on.

Peggy had not expected him to be here. As far as she knew, the crisis that had gripped Headquarters was done and resolved. She hadn’t recalled hearing Thompson requesting any agents from SSR-Europe. Most of the agents had been given the day off today, strictly because of what they had done to resolve the crisis.

Before Peggy could step out and greet Bucky, Daniel had already risen from his desk and approached. “Daniel Sousa,” he said, extending a hand out. “Can I help you?”

It was not quite challenging, but Peggy heard some suspicion in Daniel’s tone. While she knew that the telephone operators wouldn’t have knowingly let anyone suspicious in, she knew the skills that Bucky possessed. He was a charmer, and considering the predilections of the women on the ground floor, he wouldn’t have had a hard time convincing one or two of them to let him into Headquarters.

“James Barnes,” she heard Bucky answer, glancing around for a moment before he firmly shook Daniel’s hand with his right hand.

Peggy knew about the metal left arm that was grafted to Bucky, but she had never seen it before. Even now, it was hidden underneath the glove and duster he wore.

“Chief Thompson is expecting me, Agent Sousa,” Bucky stated, fishing out a piece of paper from a pocket of his duster. “Temporary transfer orders from SSR-Europe. Is he around?”

Just as Daniel took the piece of paper to read, Peggy decided to step out from the archives chamber. “The Chief is currently down in engineering,” she stated, ignoring the raised eyebrow look that Rose had given her for her boldness. “He’ll be back up shortly.”

It was slightly difficult for her to suppress the smile that threatened to erupt across her lips. She could see that Bucky was also trying to play it straight – but was failing quite miserably. It was even more prominent when she saw he had caught the slightly puzzled look that Daniel was giving the two of them.

“Agent Carter,” Bucky said at last, taking the paper from Daniel, caving into the brief game they had silently played.

“Sergeant Barnes,” she answered in kind, an open smile on her face as she closed the distance and embraced him. She didn’t care if Daniel, or even Rose’s gasp of surprise floated through the air – Bucky was a dear, treasured friend, and she hadn’t seen him since her secret wedding.

“Or, should I say, Agent Barnes, now?” she asked, stepping back after he had returned the embrace.

“Wait,” Daniel jumped in before Bucky could answer. “Wait… you’re _the_ Sergeant James “Bucky” Barnes of the 107th – the Howling Commandos?!”

The look that Daniel was giving Bucky reminded Peggy not of the awe-struck look that Agents Ramierz and Li had given DumDum and the other Howling Commandos, but of bafflement. Peggy had only one reasonable guess as to why Daniel would react in such a way.

It seemed that Bucky understood as well, as she heard him say, “Truth is sometimes far from fiction, Agent Sousa, especially when reading comics.”

“Uh, yeah,” Daniel answered, looking slightly flustered and embarrassed at the same time.

Peggy was slightly sympathetic to Daniel’s plight. Most peoples’ exposure to Captain America and the Howling Commandos had been through the comics that were published about their ‘adventures’ during the war.

Better yet, most people knew of the comics-depicted ‘Bucky Barnes’ as a sixteen-year-old recruit who was the counterpoint to the Nazi Youth movement. No one expected a sixteen year old to actually be a twenty-something, highly skilled and trained Army marksman operative. She knew and understood how much of an advantage that false assumption gave Bucky – both in the field and off of it.

“Agent Barnes?” Jack Thompson’s question from the entrance to the bullpen caused the three of them, and Rose to turn towards it. “Jack Thompson, Chief of SSR-East Coast,” Thompson continued to say as he approached, extending a hand out.

Peggy saw Bucky briefly shake Thompson’s hand, saying, “James Barnes, pleasure to meet you, sir.”

“Follow me right this way, Agent Barnes, and we’ll get you squared away,” Thompson said, leading Bucky to his office.

As soon as the door to Thompson’s office closed, Peggy saw Daniel lean against a desk, face crumpling. “I can’t believe I said that...” Daniel said in a mournful tone. “I must’ve sounded like a fool—”

“There, there, dearie,” Rose answered in a motherly tone, though Peggy could hear the sarcasm dripping to the ground. Before Daniel could lament any further about whatever perceived wrongs he had stated in front of Bucky, Rose said, “Bold of you to step right in, Peggy. Good for you!”

Peggy laughed a little, feeling slightly embarrassed and flustered. She knew she had to correct Rose’s assumptions about what she might’ve seen in that embrace, but she had to do it carefully. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen him. He’s an old friend of mine. That’s all.”

“Old friend, eh?” Rose said, giving her a dubious look. Rose was not believing any of her words. “Well, you’d better try to convince your ‘old friend’ to make his temporary transfer into a permanent one. Can’t always keep reeling in the fish and letting them go, Peggy.”

Peggy’s light, deflecting laughter turned into a slightly uncertain one as Rose abruptly flounced back to the archives. Bucky’s reluctance to work at SSR Headquarters was the same excuse that she gave to not return to SSR-Europe: they both had deeply held memories of Steve in their respective locations.

It was for Steve, and his one chance at a small, quiet measure of peace that they remained in this arrangement. And Peggy knew that neither she, nor Bucky, would ever break their promises to Steve.

~~~

Bucky had reread the dossier on Jack Thompson before he had left. The current Chief of SSR-East Coast was also Chief of the entire SSR. Thompson was a little young for the position. But the agent had been appointed the position as a reward to solving the case of Howard Stark’s missing weapons cache, and foiling a Soviet incursion using Stark’s missing weapons.

That was what the official reports had stated, but Bucky knew better than to believe the reports. He hadn’t had time to dig up much before he left, but what he found pointed directly at Peggy and Agent Sousa doing most of the work on the case. Still, a political appointment was a political appointment.

For all of Bucky’s dislike as to the underhanded nature of how politics worked at Headquarters, Thompson led SSR-East Coast with a firm hand. SSR-East Coast was solving case after case – just as well as its predecessor chief, Roger Dooley had done. Efficiency of resource usage had been up, and the agents here were competent enough – but not comparable to SSR-Europe’s agents, in Bucky’s opinion.

“I’ll get right to the point, Agent Barnes,” Thompson began, as soon as Bucky closed the door to the office and placed his briefcase and suitcase down.

“I don’t want you here,” Thompson continued, standing behind his desk, but did not take a seat. Instead, Bucky saw him fold his arms across his chest, giving him a chilly, calculated look. “But, because I can’t fight the politicians on this one, I have to let you work here.”

Thompson then unfolded his arms, bracing himself against his desk as he continued to say, “You’ll do your time here, but in case I’m not clear on this: I read your file, and frankly, I don’t care that you were a Howling Commando. I’ve seen what you guys can do. The senators, and the others – all they see in us are political tools. Whatever their reasons are to send an _assassin_ to SSR Headquarters are not for me to know, but under no circumstances will I authorize any sanctioned hits on targets on US soil. This is not Europe, Agent. Understood?”

“Perfectly, sir,” Bucky answered with absolutely no inflection in his tone.

Before Thompson could dismiss him, Bucky continued, saying, “And for the record, sir: I don’t want to be here either.”

“Good,” Thompson said, nodding once. “That will make both of our lives easier.” The SSR Chief rose back up to his full height, saying, “I’m under the impression that you’ve worked with Carter before, being a former member of the Commandos. Therefore, I’m assigning you to help Carter.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Dismissed.”

Bucky left, taking his bags with him. Outside, it seemed that Peggy and the other woman she had been working with were no longer in what looked to be the filing and archives area – or in the bullpen. Agent Sousa was sitting at his desk by his lonesome self, seemingly absorbed with reading over a few files and cross-referencing them with today’s newspaper.

It was obvious where Peggy was sitting, based on the neatness of the desk, and a rather bright red fedora that sat on the corner of her desk. But, Bucky didn’t bring his things over to her desk, and instead, stopped by Sousa’s desk.

It took two clearing of his throat to get Sousa’s attention. Even then, Sousa’s reaction amused yet exasperated him. “Um, sir,” Sousa began, looking embarrassed. “I am so sorry for what I said earlier—”

Bucky shook his head, interrupting the poor agent before Sousa could stutter any further. He supposed that this was an indirect revenge that Steve was getting on him, for all the times that Bucky had snickered about the attention that his best friend garnered as Captain America. With Steve ‘dead’ to the world, and the exploits of the Howling Commandos known through comics, Bucky could not live in relative anonymity anymore.

“Water under the bridge, Sousa,” he stated. “I read the reports about what you and Peggy did to stop Dr. Ivchenko, and clear Howard Stark’s name. Credit given where credit is due.”

Sousa frowned slightly, saying, “But the reports—oh.”

It seemed that Sousa caught onto the subtly implied statement that Bucky had made, and glanced over towards Thompson, who was still sitting in his office. “Jack’s a good man,” Sousa stated, sounding slightly defensive. “He’s relented over the last couple of years, and given Peggy some cases to work on. He knows her value to the SSR.”

Bucky heard the fond inflection for Peggy in Sousa’s tone. While it wasn’t difficult to read the man, Bucky could see hints of more than fondness for Peggy within Sousa. Peggy had an ally – a sort of champion – at SSR Headquarters, which made him somewhat relieved. But it seemed that her champion was also blinded by genuine affection. Bucky wondered if Peggy was aware of Sousa’s crush on her.

“Do you happen to know where she went?” he asked. When Sousa shook his head, he asked, “All right, then do you happen to know what cases she currently has assigned to her? Chief Thompson’s tasked me to help her.”

That got Sousa to raise an eyebrow in disbelief at him, before Bucky saw him glance over at Thompson again, frowning. “I know of a couple,” Sousa stated, returning his attention to him, before gesturing to Peggy’s desk. “The folders should be within the top left part of her desk.”

Bucky looked over towards Peggy’s neat and orderly desk, before saying, “I’ll wait until she returns then. She has the lead on her cases, and she probably more information on whatever she’s working on that’s not in the folders.”

A small, genuine smile appeared on Sousa’s face as he brightened up. “She’s currently being tasked to re-file all the reference materials we used in the case that’s finally been resolved. It’s also why the office is empty as-is today. Chief’s given most of us off. None of us got a lot of sleep for the past couple of weeks.”

“Except for you and Peggy?” Bucky questioned, curious as to what exactly had SSR Headquarters pull several sleepless nights in a row. Philips had not mentioned anything with regards to any sort of crisis that Headquarters faced before Bucky had left.

“Someone’s gotta keep the midnight oil burning,” Sousa stated, shrugging. “Here’s part of the reports on the case, if you’re interested.”

Bucky placed his bags down and drew up a chair from one of the other desks. Accepting the folder that Sousa handed him, he sat down and began reading through the report. Parts of it caused him to raise his eyebrows in surprise, while others puzzled him, but he was glad that Sousa was not jumping in with some comment or another, as he read through all of the materials contained within the folders.

When he was done, he wasn’t sure if the frown he now wore on his face was permanently etched. Sousa looked to be reabsorbed back into whatever work he was doing with today’s paper, but as soon as Bucky placed the case file down, the agent looked up.

“We had strongly considered calling in SSR-Europe for help on this particular case,” Sousa stated, answering Bucky’s unspoken question.

“This happened before?” Bucky asked, gesturing to the folder.

“Twice before,” Sousa answered, nodding. “But we didn’t make the connection to the other two cases until Peggy went through the archives. Both of the other times were under completely different circumstances – except for the one person sighted in all three cases.”

“Dottie Underwood,” Bucky stated.

“Peggy wrote up the dossier on her, if you want to read it, Barnes,” Sousa stated, gesturing to the archives.

“Bucky,” he said. “Friends call me Bucky.”

“Daniel then,” Sousa answered, grinning. The brief moment of camaraderie didn’t last long, as the agent continued to say, “But even if you don’t read the report, this ‘Dottie Underwood’ character is bad news. Supposedly, she had a rather insidious hand in the whole Ivchenko and Stark weapons mess.”

“Supposedly?” he questioned.

“We knew Ivchenko had accomplices, but he never confessed, never broke during interrogation,” Sousa said. “Peggy was the only one to encounter Underwood after Ivchenko did something to Stark, and tried to apprehend her. All we really know of this ‘Dottie Underwood’ is that she is a Soviet agent, the same as Ivchenko.”

Bucky remained silent for a long moment. It was apparent from Sousa’s words that SSR Headquarters had not been made aware of SSR-Europe’s activities. It was as if both branches were operating on completely different agendas.

“Still the same old Bucky,” Peggy’s warm greeting from the other side of bullpen caused Sousa to look up and over, and Bucky to turn slightly in his seat. “Always making friends with everyone.”

Bucky grinned, saying, “What can I say, Pegs. I’m such a likable guy.”

“Enough that you’re constantly leaving a trail of broken hearts,” she continued, approaching with a smile on her face, while she shook her head. “Honestly, what am I going to tell the operators downstairs, after you leave?”

“Tell them to transfer to Europe,” he answered facetiously. “I’ll even leave a phone number they can easily connect to – provided that the operators there are willing to connect them to me.”

He saw her sigh, rolling her eyes slightly at him. It did not escape his notice that Sousa had a most interesting look on his face. Bucky could only guess that because of what Peggy faced day-in and day-out, this was a side of her that Sousa had never seen before.

“Oh, how I missed you,” she stated, grinning.

“Well,” he said, drawing his chair over to her desk, tone serious again, “Thompson has me working with you. So, what cases do you have?”

“These,” she answered, pulling out a rather thick pile of folders and placed them on her desk.

The stack looked a lot more enormous than others he had seen on various desks in the bullpen. He couldn’t help but wonder if she was being overworked, and gave her a concerned look.

“But,” she said, slowly putting the stack back into her desk, “they can wait until tomorrow. For now, I’m more interested to hear how you’ve been, and what you’ve been doing in Europe. We should go grab a bite and some drinks at Lawson’s.” In a slightly louder, more inviting tone, she said, “Daniel, would you like to join us?”

Bucky glanced back to see Sousa faintly grin in relief, looking over towards Thompson’s office before nodding at Peggy, saying, “Anything to get out of here earlier, Peggy. Thanks.”

“All right, then,” Bucky answered, nodding in agreement.

It seemed that both Peggy and Sousa had drawn the short straw for duty day, while their fellow agents had the day off. He did not mind being the excuse that both of them took, if it would grant them some small modicum of time to relax and rest after a long, arduous case.

* * *

_November 5 th, 1948, Outside of New York City..._

Steve hadn’t realized just how much he missed Bucky. It was not the fact that Bucky had been away on a long, secretive mission for the SSR. Nor was it that Peggy had told him about Bucky’s unexpected temporary transfer last night. But just because his best friend was… here in this moment in time.

Bucky was safe and sound, with his personality intact, and not brainwashed to serve HYDRA or the Soviets.

He knew it was unfair to the Bucky he had left behind in 2023 – whom had recovered most of his old self. But after seeing his best friend fade into dust before his eyes in 2018, something inside of Steve had broken. He had thought that after everything that he and Bucky had been through, in the future, there was something inherently _wrong_ about his best friend dying before having a chance to live free.

And then, the Avengers had brought everyone Thanos had killed, back to life. But Steve couldn’t face it anymore – couldn’t continue on after losing everything worth living for in 2018, then losing Natasha and Tony in rapid succession. He couldn’t move on. There was too much death in his life…

_Don’t do anything stupid while I’m gone._

_How can I? You’re taking it all with you._

Steve had seen the knowing look in Bucky’s eyes when they had exchanged those words in 2023. Bucky _knew_ that something was about to happen that would separate them forever, and had accepted it with a silent blessing to go. Steve had wanted to prove Bucky wrong. And a s transient as Steve had wanted to become when he had teleported back to September 24  th , 1946, he found that he could not bring himself to go back to 2023.

He had not been able to find his body in the Red Skull’s war bomber wreckage – yet. He couldn’t leave those he cared about, in 1946 without Steve Rogers. So he stayed, and he lived. Even with the quiet life he led with Peggy, he found himself regretting, missing, and being glad all at the same time, that he stayed.

“Welcome home,” Steve warmly said into Bucky’s ear before letting him go. He stepped back to let him through, ignoring the slightly puzzled but happy look that his best friend was giving him.

Closing the door, he took both Peggy’s coat and Bucky’s duster from the two and gestured for Bucky to go further into the house. Amusement sprang into Bucky’s eyes, and Steve couldn’t help but laugh – this was the first time that he was playing host to his friend.

Quickly hanging up the coats in the closet, Steve followed them into the living room, asking, “Did I arrange the logs correctly this year, Peggy?”

He saw a faint smile appear on Peggy’s lips, before her eyes crinkled in amusement at the arrangement of the logs in the fireplace. “Yes,” she answered, before glancing over to Bucky, saying, “There’s a method to the logs to burn the paper more quickly. There’s always a chance when the paper shrivels up, that someone can see what you’ve written. This arrangement makes the paper burn faster.”

Before Bucky could answer with some quip or amused comment, there was a knock at the front door. Steve left the two to their discussion and went to go open it. The tired, but happy face of Peggy’s brother, Michael, greeted him.

“Hey, Michael,” he said, gesturing for the man to enter. “Glad you could make it. Peggy and Bucky just got home. Long flight?” Closing the door, he took Michael’s coat and hung that up as well, as Michael placed his suitcase to the side.

“Too long, as usual,” Michael answered. “It’s good to see you as well, Steve.”

“Come on,” he said, clapping his brother-in-law on the back. “I’ve got the perfect remedy for that.”

He left Michael at the living room to reunite with Peggy and Bucky – who were oddly and amusingly enough, now discussing and admiring Bucky’s shoulder holster for his handgun. Going into the kitchen, he pulled out four beer stenies from the refrigerator. He couldn’t help the sad smile that briefly quirked up the edges of his lips – modern refrigerators were much more efficient than what everyone had now.

“Everything all right?”

Steve looked up from where he was, to see Michael enter the kitchen, giving him a slightly concerned look. “Yeah,” he said, breaking open all four bottles, before handing Michael one. “Just thinking about some things.”

Michael took a swig out of his bottle, before going over to where Steve was, and leaned against the counter top. “Bucky’s back home and safe, so you shouldn’t worry anymore, Steve.”

Steve nodded. Looking back on his life, especially during the war, he understood why Bucky kept so many secrets about himself from him. Of course, Steve had to partially blame himself for being unsure of what he felt for Bucky as part of the reason. But he knew that the reality was because the majority of people right now, were incapable of accepting that love knew no boundaries.

Early in his settling into his new life here in this time, Steve had briefly entertained the notion of transporting Peggy, Bucky, even Michael to the future – to 2023. But only to show them what good came about from their efforts, and to live a life that was not against the backdrop of a possible nuclear war.

He knew that he had the power to completely stop the Cold War – to even destroy all nuclear arsenals of America and the Soviet Union. He had the power to stop, to dictate, and to ensure world peace – but that would be akin to HYDRA, to even Thanos’ vision born of blood.

“I don’t,” he quietly answered, returning to the present. “But I still do,” he continued. “I know it’s selfish of me, but you’re there, every step of the way with him, so I know that someone is watching over him; someone who cares deeply about him in a similar manner as I do.”

Steve watched as realization slowly dawned over Michael; his eyes widening, and his hand holding the beer to his lips dropping ever so slightly. It was the 5 th  of November. Though the tradition in the Carter family was to burn regrets in a bonfire lit because of Guy Fawkes Day, Steve found the day to be more of a confessional day than anything else.

“He…” Michael began, curiously looking at him. “You haven’t told him? When did you… how did you…?”

“The when and how doesn’t matter,” Steve began. Before he could continue on, they both heard Bucky’s raised, annoyed tone carry into the kitchen.

“There’s some injustice to all of this bullshit going on at Headquarters. Here you are, getting the shit cases. I mean, half of them aren’t even worth the SSR’s time and can be shoved onto the desks of the police – lost dog, found dog. Snatched purse in broad daylight with no one being able to catch the robber… What the hell, Peggy?”

“Don’t you dare make my life more difficult at work than it already is, James Buchanan Barnes,” Peggy stated.

Steve heard the touch of warning in her tone. He caught Michael’s concerned look at him before they both left the kitchen. The sight that greeted Steve in the living room would have been somewhat amusing, if not for Peggy’s tone.

Peggy was sitting on the opposite end of the couch, legs crossed and glaring at Bucky. Bucky had a hand over his eyes and looked to be nursing a headache of sorts. To Steve, it sounded as if the two had had this argument before, and very recently.

“A beer for you, Pegs,” Michael swooped in, placing the bottle into Peggy’s hand. “And a beer for you, Bucky.” Michael did the same for Bucky, before standing opposite of the two, on the other side of the coffee table, and crossed his arms over his chest – as if he were an angry father admonishing misbehaving children.

“So what’s going on at work, Pegs?” Michael asked after a moment.

“Better question is,” Bucky began, removing his hand from his eyes and sat up a little straighter. “Do you two talk about work at home?”

“Sometimes,” Steve answered, knowing that Bucky’s question had been directed at both him and Peggy. “But not in detail.”

It had been Peggy who had established the clear delineation between work and home, and Steve respected that. He knew that there were days when Peggy returned home, frustrated and annoyed with a case, or with her fellow agents.

_She kept so many secrets. I didn’t want her to keep one from you._

Steve never asked what the cases were about, but asked her to open up to him if there were any perspectives he could provide when dealing with her fellow agents. It was rare that she did take him up on the offer, but she was consistent in telling him if she would be working late – to not stay up to wait for her.

“They may be cases you feel are worthless, Bucky,” Peggy began, placing her untouched beer down onto the table. “But they’re my cover.”

Steve followed her with his eyes as she got up and made her way to the corner of the living room. She crouched down and drew back a rather large portion of the rug. Tapping and digging up a piece of the floorboard, Steve was not at all surprised to see that she had hidden a small cache or box away.

“I’m sorry, Steve,” Peggy began, as she brought the dusty box over. “I know that we agreed to keep work at work—”

“It’s your life and career, Peggy,” he gently answered. “I wouldn’t have expected any less, to see that you’re working on a more important case. Just like how you solved Howard’s missing weapons’ case.”

Peggy made a humming noise before setting the box down in front of Bucky, and unlocked it. “This is my case that I’m working on. Now that you’re working with me, you get my covers, and I get your help on this. Agreed?”

Steve saw Bucky frown, scooting forward to gingerly open the case with his flesh-and-blood hand. “You have at least one ally and friend in Headquarters, Peggy,” Bucky began. “Why do you need to keep this secret—oh.”

As much as Steve wanted to go around and stand behind the couch to peer into Peggy’s box, he remained where he was. He could see Michael wanting to do so as well, but it seemed that Peggy’s brother and Bucky had a similar delineation between their work and personal lives.

Michael was a MI5 agent, now that the SOE had been dissolved. Bucky was a SSR agent. Despite what rumors Steve heard about SSR-Europe being funded in part by MI5, there were still some separation between the two entities.

The silence that enveloped the living room was broken only by the sound of Bucky flipping through the notes that Peggy had either collected, taken, or jotted down. A minute later, Steve saw Bucky fish out a single photograph from the box and placed it on the table.

“She’s gorgeous,” Michael remarked, as Bucky firmly shut the box.

Steve felt a slight chill go through him, but managed to keep it from showing on his face as he stepped around to look at the photograph. The woman in the picture was striking in appearance, with light-colored hair and an expressive, happy-looking smile. Were it not for the vacant look in the woman’s eyes, Steve would have called her a Hollywood starlet.

Except that Steve already knew who the woman in the photograph was—

“Dottie Underwood,” Peggy stated.

“That’s the same Dottie Underwood mentioned in the SSR report about Howard Stark and his missing weapons?” Michael asked, looking slightly alarmed. “The same Dottie Underwood that you mentioned, who was your neighbor while you lived in the Griffith?”

“The one and the same—” Peggy answered, nodding to Michael’s question.

“She’s a product of a Soviet program code-named ‘Black Widow’,” Bucky interrupted, jabbing his still-gloved metal hand at the picture. “You’re very lucky you didn’t die when you fought her at that airfield, Peggy. Why the hell are you going after her – alone?!”

“Because I think she wants to defect,” Peggy answered.

Silence answered her declaration, but before Peggy could continue, Steve saw Bucky fold his hands together, and sit forward, hunched over slightly. There was a pensive look on his face – one that Steve knew all too well. “Peggy,” Bucky began, “When my partner and I were completing Operation Midnight, I visited that place where you, DumDum, and the others ‘found’ Dr. Ivchenko. The Soviets had burned it all down, but my partner found a clue.”

Bucky paused for a moment, as if considering his words, before continuing on. “There were twenty-one other girls, women, in that place. All of them were… ‘activated’… if you want to call it that. Sent out into the wild by their handlers within the Soviet Union. They were all labeled as ‘Black Widow’, and given aliases just like Dottie Underwood. Neither my partner or I knew why the Soviets did that all at once, and thought it a seeding policy – to preserve knowledge and disappear from being hunted down.”

“We don’t have pictures of the girls or women, but we do have initials of their aliases. If you’re still keen on this ‘Dottie Underwood’ defecting, Peggy, you’re going to have to be extremely careful. The Soviets **do not** like one of their own defecting. They will hunt her down, and there is a likely chance that they will send one or more of their Black Widows after her.”

_And if the successor Black Widow did not kill her defecting predecessor, they would’ve sent the Winter Soldier to kill both of them._

Steve mentally shook his head, trying to dislodge the brief thought that had settled. There was no Winter Soldier anymore – he had rid the Soviets of their greatest weapon by rescuing Bucky. While it did not surprise him that the Black Widow program had begun so early – possibly earlier than the war – he was worried.

The beer he held in his hand wasn’t doing him any favors, and it looked as if Peggy and Michael both needed stiffer drinks. Steve knew that the only reason why Bucky was openly discussing parts of his secret mission now, was because the four of them had been initially read into Operation Midnight during the war. He was a little surprised that that was the secret mission that Bucky had carried out in the past year-and-a-half that he had been incommunicado.

Steve turned towards the kitchen, but before he could take one step towards it, he found himself face-to-face with an entity dressed in an all-black leather jacket, leather gloves, jeans, with chains wrapped in an ‘X’ around his torso. Most prominent on the entity was not the dressage, but the fact that the entity had a skull for a head, and it was on _fire_.

“Ghost Rider,” Steve whispered, eyes widening in uneasy surprise.

~*~*~*~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A small note to readers: An iteration of Ghost Rider was introduced in Agents of SHIELD, and I've used the character/entity in the [In The Line of Duty (series)](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1140602). In that series, I've established that Ghost Rider never shows up without a price to pay.


	4. Memory Extraction Session:  сумеречный + рассвет + семнадцать

**Memory Extraction Session: сумеречный + рассвет + семнадцать**

_Peering through the scope again, Bucky saw Steve signal to fall back and lifted his eyes from the scope. Rolling over and up, he brushed the brambles and pine needles off of him and slung his sniper rifle across his back, while pulling his regular rifle back out and into the forefront._

_Grabbing the spent cartridge with the single bullet left, he shoved that into a waist belt compartment. Even with no more HYDRA presence here, he wasn't about to leave some Howard Stark custom-made technology out in the open._

_Jogging down from where he had been perched, he met Steve on the brush-covered path they had taken in, sliding down the steep hill and landing on the ground. “That was amazing!” Steve exclaimed, as Bucky saw him run up to him with a wide smile and eyes lit up in a giddy manner._

… семнадцать…

“ _Huh?” he began, sorely confused before it hit him that maybe Steve was talking about the snipes that he had done. “Someone's gotta watch your back, Steve,” he said, grinning as he slung an arm around his best friend and pulled him closer. “For all of those enhancements that the serum's done, you still sometimes don't pay attention to what's around you, do you?”_

“ _Pot calling kettle,” Steve answered, looping his arm around in the same manner, before thumping him on the chest with his free hand. “But seriously, that was amazing. I've never seen anyone, snipe so fast! Seventeen HYDRA soldiers in less than the time it took me to down five of them with my shield. And that one with the flame thrower pack—wow.”_

… семнадцать…

_Bucky couldn't help but chuckle as he said, “Are you seriously going to keep gushing like one of those star-struck letter writers that you let me read a few days ago?”_

_Steve laughed, shaking his head slightly. “No, no, but come on Buck, with those skills, you really should teach some of the boys back home. Give them a better fighting chance out here.”_

“ _Steve,” Bucky said, stopping as all of the good humor left him, causing Steve to stop walking as well. He didn't remove his arm from around Steve's shoulders, but he did make him face him, as he said, “You know that I'm not leaving unless you're leaving. The boys back home have good instructors; they know what they need to teach them, to give them the best chance to survive out here. I don't care if I have the 'points' to leave, I'm not going to – not until this is all done. Not until we go home – together.”_

“ _I know,” Steve answered. There was a solemn look in his eyes, as he said after a moment. “Until the end of the line, right?”_

“ _You're damn right,” he agreed, a crooked grin winding its way up his lips. Turning Steve back around, he started to walk again, half-pushing him along, saying, “Come on, lets see how much Jones and the others destroyed on the other side.”_

… семнадцать…

“ **That** is where you are wrapping the end of the command?”

Bucky blinked as he heard the disbelief in Zola’s tone. He was once again, strapped to the infernal chair, watching when he could stomach it, his memories on the sphere. Fire burned through him, with rivulets of sweat dripping down him – or was that his blood?

_я не знаю._

“The core of the command is enveloped and embedded around his sniping skills – seventeen targets. All taken out with efficiency unseen in the battlefield before—”

“Unseen to the likes of you, Ivchenko,” Zola stated. “The Red Skull’s men—”

“Let us not get into the semantics of a needless debate, doctor,” Ivchenko sardonically said.

_я не знаю._

_я не знаю._

Bucky tried to scream again. Nothing came out as he saw Steve’s solemn look projected onto the sphere. They had made a promise…

“Ah, it seems that I have not yet stamped out his resistance to my ministrations,” Ivchenko stated, as Bucky tightly squeezed his eyes shut—

“ _Hey Steve,” Bucky said, glancing over as Steve clapped him on the back._

“ _Hey Buck,” came the warm reply._

_The hill – mountain, Bucky wanted to declare – that the Commandos were climbing to get out of the hilly valley was not as much of a burden as it had been a few days ago. The explosives that Jones and the others had wired up were all used up to great effect._

“ _You doing good?” Steve asked, gesturing towards what was in front of them. The rest of the Commandos were already half-way up the rocky hill-mountain, while he, Bucky, was trailing far behind._

“ _What kind of question is that Steve?” he asked, giving his best friend a puzzled look. “I ain’t injured. Just was thinking about some stuff.”_

_Steve made a humming noise before asking, “What stuff?”_

“ _Just stuff,” he answered, not wanting to get into details._

_The brief moment where their fingers had tangled together last night while engaged in Morse code taps, still lingered within his thoughts. It wasn’t the usual wishful thoughts that always came, whenever Steve physically did something seemingly accidental with him._

_No, the thoughts that drew him back to their fingers tangling had been born out of the seventeen rapid shots he had done. They were uncomfortable thoughts, circular ones that he seemed not able to escape. The thoughts made his skin crawl, driving more and more loathing at himself for reacting with disgust at the fact that he could not derive any former pleasure, or comfort whenever Steve touched him – embraced him._

_Even now… with Steve clapping his back, Bucky felt… wrong…_

_Bucky blinked, as he realized that they had stopped walking. The Commandos were still continuing up the rocky hill-mountain, but it seemed that DumDum and the others were not paying too much attention, and were concentrating on just getting up the enormous, steep slope._

“ _Hey, I’m here if you want to talk, Bucky,” Steve said, tone full of concern._

_Bucky shifted the strap going down from his shoulder to waist, and glanced down at his hands. The weight of his beloved sniper rifle, Vera, was seemingly heavier than the largest steel plate he had helped move and set at the Brooklyn Shipyards. Staring at his hands was the wrong thing to do, as disgust welled up within him._

_**That bastard** did this without my consent._

“ _Zola will pay for what he did, Bucky.”_

_Steve’s gentle voice that hid the steel behind the words startled Bucky. He hadn’t realized that he had stated that last thought out loud. It had not been his intent, and ashamed, he looked away. Before he could continue to climb, Steve appeared in front of him, blocking his way._

“ _Bucky,” Steve began, looking at him eye-to-eye. “I may not understand what you are going through. I know you’re angry—”_

“ _Angry doesn’t even cover half of what I feel, Steve,” Bucky stated, shrugging Steve’s hand off of his shoulder. “That bastard… that fucking bastard…”_

_Bucky tried to go on, tried to spit it out, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t even begin to describe to Steve what he remembered Zola doing to him – the needles, the chilling laughter, the pain, the isolation, his body reacting in ways that he never wanted to react._

_He hated it, and he hated himself for being like this. He hated that he allowed the one moment where he used to long for whimsical what-ifs from Steve, to become a catalyst of self-loathing, disgust, and revulsion at himself._

“ _Hey, Cap! Everything all right?” Morita’s shout down the hill-mountain interrupted them._

“ _Yeah,” Steve said, turning slightly so his voice carried up. “We’ll be up there shortly.”_

_Bucky tried to step around Steve, but it seemed that Steve was not having any of it. They stood like two statues, staring at each other. There was some frustration in Steve’s eyes, but also a gentleness and want to understand what the problem was – to help him._

_He couldn’t tell Steve. Steve would never understand what it **felt** like to be… physically violated… in such a manner—_

Fury unlike anything he felt before surged through Bucky. Lethargy, dizziness, fever, everything that held him down and into the chair seemed to disappear for one moment. Clarity, driven by his rage, gave him the strength to break this bonds. An audible, awful-sounding whine buzzed near his left ear, as he landed on the ground in a crouch.

_Target—two meters to the left._

_Secondary target—two-point-five meters to the left._

_Weapon—left arm—gears whining—metal—_

“You will not disobey—желание!” the primary target fearfully shouted.

Skittering knives lanced down through his head, tearing pieces apart—

… _agonizing fire licked its way down his body, warming certain parts of him that did not feel pleasurable at all…_

… _the flames burned and licked their way under his skin, traveling back up through his legs…_

… _he could not draw breath anymore as he felt a vice-like thing squeeze his chest. The light that now shone into his eyes seemed so angelic…_

He growled and took two large, menacing steps forward. He ignored the pinpoint burst of sharp pain that started in the back of his right eye, and swiftly drilled through his skull.

_Targets backing away to wall—corner them._

“Stop where you are— ржавый!”

“Why are your commands not working?!”

… _he was completely naked, he didn't care as he sat down on the ground, not realizing how exhausted he was…_

… _laughter and lightness in t_ _he light-haired, blue-green eyed soldier’s eyes died as he frowned slightly, wondering why there was a searching look in the soldier’s eyes…_

White encompassed his vision for a brief moment, accompanied by agonizing pain seizing his the sides of his head—

“Stop him, Ivchenko!”

“I am trying—семнадцать, рассвет!”

… _there was a certain, strangely lithe grace about which the light-haired, blue-green eyed soldier was methodically taking out the enemy soldiers…_

… _it was voyeuristic of him to just watch…_

… _d_ _aybreak had arrived…_

“ _I've never seen anyone, snipe so fast! Seventeen_ _ **American** soldiers in less than the time it took me to down five of them with my shield.”_

… _t_ _here was a solemn look in t_ _he soldier’s_ _eyes…_

“Let me try—сумеречный!”

Pitch black enveloped him, unexpectedly falling over his eyes. That was swiftly followed by pain blooming along his right side of the body, as he fell to the ground.

He couldn’t move.

He had to move. He **had** to move—to kill… them? Him? The soldier with the light-colored hair and blue-green eyes?

_S teve?_

“Thank God,” the secondary target whispered above him. He could see their feet standing next to his face. All he had to do was reach out—

“What was that, Ivchenko?” the same target asked.

_S teve?_

_Help. I need your help, Steve._

_Save me._

_Please._

“Something I was working on as a possible fail safe, Zola,” the primary target stated. “A stop or cease-all activity command. A way to shut the Winter Soldier down, should something like what we have just witnessed, happen.”

… _tangling their fingers together for a moment…_

The tears wouldn’t come. His silent, imploring pleas to make it stop fell on blind eyes. As Bucky felt himself being rolled over onto his back, he thought he felt the lingering warmth of Steve’s fingers brushing against his own fade.

They had made a promise—

~*~*~*~


	5. The Choice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Theme: '[The Choice](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HrQp7BuM194%22)' by Ninja Tracks.

**Chapter 3: The Choice**

“ _Ghost Rider,” Steve whispered, eyes widening in uneasy surprise._

Two sharp clicks of hammers being pulled back immediately answered Steve’s whisper. Even before Steve placed his beer down, and brought up a hand to try to hold off on Peggy and Bucky shooting at Ghost Rider, he heard Bucky’s exclamation of, “…. the hell?” follow.

“Steve?” Michael questioned. There was a tension-filled edge in the MI-5 agent’s tone. Steve knew that his brother-in-law was not carrying a gun – MI-5 had no authorization on US soil.

Steve didn’t dare look back at his friends and family. Instead, he kept his eyes on Ghost Rider, who was staring directly at him. Flames enveloped its head, whipping this way and that with an invisible breeze that he could not feel. There was no sound or movement from the entity, only a seemingly eerie stare-down directed solely at him.

“What do you want?” Steve asked, addressing the entity.

Ghost Rider continued to stare at him, stretching the uncomfortable silence. Steve sensed that if this went on any further, Bucky or Peggy – or both – would throw caution into the wind, and open fire on the entity. Yet, as suddenly as the entity had appeared in between the threshold to his living room and kitchen, Steve saw the entity tilt its head to the side.

“Weapons down,” Steve said, continuing to hold his arm out, hoping that he interpreted the non-verbal gesture correctly.

“What?” Bucky hissed. “Have you lost your—”

Out of the corner of his eyes, Steve saw Bucky try to step out from behind him to get a better shot. Steve immediately threw up his other arm and took a half-step over. This time, he glanced directly back at Bucky, pinning his best friend with hard look.

“Weapons down,” he repeated, pouring every single ounce of authority into his tone.

It had its intended effect; Bucky’s eyes widened ever so slightly. Steve had never used that tone on his best friend before – even when they had been reunited in 2016. But at the moment, he could not have anyone shoot Ghost Rider. He didn’t know why the entity was here, and he didn’t like it at all.

As he saw Bucky frown, but reluctantly obey the order, Steve glanced the other way to see Peggy do the same. Of Michael, the man was taking a step back from the phone sitting next to the recliner, looking puzzled and concerned at the same time.

Steve slowly lowered his hands and returned his attention to the entity. He waited until he heard both Peggy and Bucky holster their guns, before asking, “What do you want?”

To his surprise, Ghost Rider took a step back, still staring directly at him. But unexpectedly, the entity suddenly took on a startling visage.

“Your friends tried to buy you as much time as possible, but I am afraid that you are now out of time, Captain Rogers.”

~~~

It was taking all of Bucky’s will to _not_ draw his gun again, as soon as the… thing Steve defended, changed from having a skull for a head on fire, to wearing **his** face. Except that it was not really his face… Bucky noticed that the entity was wearing a more youthful version of his face.

“Your friends tried to buy you as much time as possible, but I am afraid that you are now out of time, Captain Rogers.”

Bucky knew that what he, Steve, and the others had seen in the war was fantastical, almost akin to the pulp science-fiction magazines and books that he loved to read. But the sound, the inflection, the noise, the _voice_ coming out from the thing that now wore his identical likeness was downright creepy.

Even more alarming was that he hated when his gut was right. _S_ _omeone_ was blackmailing Steve—

“I don’t understand,” Steve said.

There was utter confusion in Steve’s tone, and it sounded genuine. Before either the thing wearing his face, or Steve could continue, Peggy jumped in with a demanding, “Why… who… what are you? Why are you wearing _his_ face?”

She had jabbed a hand in his general direction, but like him, Bucky could see that Peggy was also trying not to withdraw her pistol that had been hidden under a seat cushion, again. Of Michael, he had remained where he was, but looked ready to spring into action on either his, or Peggy’s command.

It was clear that the three of them did not believe Steve’s unspoken declaration that the thing standing in the living room was benign. But, they were willing to give Steve a small sliver of the benefit of doubt – for a short time.

“Will you please wear another face, Ghost Rider?” Steve asked, grimacing slightly.

“No,” the thing answered.

Bucky could’ve sworn he heard an almost obstinate tone – eerily similar to his own, whenever he felt like digging in, and not budging on an argument. Even eerier was that the thing then crossed its arms over its chest – definitely reminiscent of his own actions.

“Okay, then,” Bucky heard Steve murmur. “So, care to explain?” Steve said in a louder tone. “Because I wasn’t aware that I had friends helping me, or that there was some time limit to whatever I needed to do. For you, I might add. I don’t even remember agreeing to a contract with you, Ghost Rider.”

Steve casually talking to all of them was one thing. But Steve casually talking to a strange, hostile-looking entity, wearing his face and sounding just like him, continued to send unease down Bucky’s spine. If the confused tone that Steve had was real, then _when_ did Steve meet the thing – and how?

“Steve—” Peggy began.

“Vengeance is a bloody affair, Captain,” the thing stated. “While trillions of lives were extinguished on that day with a simple snap of fingers, those left alive vowed vengeance. Chief among those were—”

“Us,” Steve whispered. “Those Avengers who survived.”

Bucky saw a crestfallen, regretful look eclipse his best friend’s face. As confused as he was, it seemed that whatever the thing was here for, it was drawing out Steve’s reluctance to talk about what he had done after surviving the war bomber crash.

“Was the price we paid to bring them all back not enough? Was Nat’s sacrifice… Tony’s life, even Vision, and Thor’s family not enough?”

There was a broken, tired tone in Steve’s words. It alarmed Bucky as much as the words themselves. Peggy immediately stepped in and slipped her hands around Steve’s right hand, but to Bucky’s surprise, Steve pulled away. Bucky could not help but glance over at Michael – silently asking him the same question he saw reflected in Michael’s eyes: just what the hell was going on with Steve?

“What was… what is the price that still must be paid?” Steve asked, tone hard again and unrelenting.

“You need to return the stones, Captain,” the thing stated.

Bucky had enough. He reached out to Steve with his still-gloved left metal hand and clamped it over Steve’s shoulder. Using just slightly more force than necessary, he pulled Steve back behind him, and stepped forward. “Listen, asshole—” he began.

“Don’t touch him, Bucky,” Steve warned, as Bucky felt him tug him back from going straight up and into the thing’s personal space. “Ghost Rider is… death incarnate, I think. It dissolves people if you touch it, or it touches you.”

That stopped Bucky cold. Incredulous, he glanced back at Steve to see him shaking his head. “Then why the hell is it wearing _my face_?”

“Because you died in another reality. Another universe. Another point in time,” Steve answered in a solemn tone. “You made a secret deal with Ghost Rider to get myself and others back to our own worlds, our own time.”

Steve stepped away from all of them. Bucky was not the only one to watch Steve’s short steps towards the plank of wood that had served as a covering for Peggy’s secret case. He saw Steve crouch down and reach deeply into the hole. When Steve withdrew his hand, dirt followed, but there was something within Steve’s curled fist.

Steve brushed the dirt off of the object in his hand – a piece of balled up cloth – before standing back up. Bucky saw him turn towards the thing, saying, “I haven’t found my body yet. Is it possible for me to return here?”

If the night could get any stranger, Bucky was fairly certain that he would’ve called all of this a dream. Yet, even stranger statements were coming out of Steve’s lips, confusing him more than what he was seeing. Now there was a body – Steve’s body – apparently, to contend with.

“Steve?” Michael hesitatingly questioned.

“As I said,” the thing said, seemingly ignoring everyone else. “Your friends tried to buy you as much time as possible.”

That cryptic statement caused Steve to frown, but a moment later, Bucky saw him narrow his eyes slightly – as if a thought had occurred. He saw Steve open up the cloth, revealing a gleaming, silvery metal bangle-like object that had a flat black surface inset in the center. The bangle-like object’s jewel inset didn’t look like a jewel, but before any of them could stop Steve, Steve put the object onto his wrist.

Steve double-tapped the black surface. Bucky watched, more fascinated than startled, as something metal and crawling-like bled out from it. It was fast in covering Steve, and the clothes that Steve wore. By the time Peggy had taken two steps towards Steve, it was complete.

Bucky’s jaw dropped open – what Steve was now wearing was the exact armor that he remembered seeing him in, during the rescue. How such a thing – what it was, never mind _how_ it was packed into such a tiny device – came to be, baffled him.

“That’s…” Michael began, looking as gobsmacked as Bucky did.

But it seemed that Steve was still full of more surprises. He saw him raise his left hand up, curled into an armored fist, before closing the distance to the thing. There was a reluctant look in Steve’s eyes as Bucky saw him uncurl his fist.

In the center of Steve’s palm was a yellow stone, and it was glowing ever so faintly.

“My friends?” Steve asked.

In response, the thing suddenly transformed back into the skull on fire visage, before unwrapping the chain bound across its chest. Bucky’s eyes widened slightly in fear as he took a step towards Steve, saying, “Steve—”

The light that burst out from the contact between the stone in Steve’s hand, and the chain was bright enough that Bucky had to shield his eyes. As quick as it happened, it was suddenly gone. But two new people were now standing in the living room.

One was a woman with flame-red hair and sharp eyes, wearing some kind of skin-tight suit – leaving nothing about her to the imagination. That suit also had what Bucky considered an unnecessary amount of belts.

The other, was a man with dark hair and a face that could be of strong relation to Howard Stark. The man was wearing what looked to be red-gold armor, more streamlined-looking than a 1948 Ford.

“Nat. Tony,” Steve greeted the two people, fondness mixed with grief in his tone.

“Steve,” the redheaded woman – Nat – answered in kind.

Bucky was certain that ‘Nat’ was either an alias or a shortened version of her full name. But the way Steve said it sounded as if he considered her a close friend, if not family. Of the man Steve called ‘Tony’, there was some tightness in Steve’s tone.

“Good job on doing the life thing, Steve,” Tony said, looking around before taking a few steps away from the flame-wrapped skull thing, Steve, and the woman. “Wasn’t sure if you’d have the balls to actually take advantage of the device and go be selfish. But yeah, good on you.”

While the man who looked like Howard continued to ramble and walk around them, Bucky saw him pause before him, giving him a rather curious look. “Huh. So that’s what you look like when not a murderous killing machine. Can’t believe Mom had a crush on you.”

“Tony,” Steve began, sounding slightly annoyed.

Before Bucky could question ‘Tony’ on his words, the man continued to walk on, before back pedaling a step when he stopped in front of Peggy. “Gah. Still as terrifying as I remember, Aunt Peggy.”

“Tony—” Steve began again, sounding both exasperated and annoyed.

Peggy spluttered for a moment, but didn’t get to say a word. Bucky saw ‘Tony’ look towards Steve, throwing out what sounded like a casual quip, “Your taste in women—”

“Hey,” Steve warned at the same time ‘Nat’ stated the same. “Enough.”

‘Tony’ held his hands up, feigning surrender, and stepped back towards Steve. The man then clapped his hands together and addressed, Steve, saying, “Build an anchor point if you want to stay, Steve.”

“What?” Steve asked, frowning slightly.

“Build another platform. Same as what I’m going to assume Banner did, to send you on this little wild trip,” ‘Tony’ stated in what sounded like an obvious, condescending, and helpful tone all at the same time.

“But,” Steve began, “I don’t know—I can’t even begin to understand—”

“Ah, but I do,” the man answered, holding up a finger.

The tone that ‘Tony’ was using with Steve irritated Bucky. How his best friend could stand this person who looked like Howard, but definitely did not act like Howard on his worst days, was baffling.

Bucky had met and talked with pilots before. They had egos the likes of which could barely be tempered. But this ‘Tony’ fellow seemed to be several miles out of a pilot’s ego league.

Steve remained silent for a few long moments. It was ‘Nat’ who broke that silence, saying, “Steve. You have to tell them. You want to stay here, you have to tell them. They’re your friends – your family – and if they’re everything that you’ve told me about… they’ll understand.”

“Tell us what?” Peggy asked, taking a step forward and crossing her arms over her chest.

She was not quite looking at Steve, but Bucky could tell that Peggy was getting very concerned. It was currently overriding her irritation, but if the cryptic, almost one-way conversation between Steve and these… others… in the living room did not stop—

A remorseful look appeared on Steve’s face as Bucky saw him turn to face the three of them. Steve curled his armored left hand around the stone, but ‘Nat’, ‘Tony’, and the skull thing did not disappear. Stranger yet, Steve seemed to stand at a loose parade rest, as if trying to summon the courage to say something.

“Peggy, Bucky, and Michael,” Steve began. “I’m sorry. I should have told the three of you when I had the chance, but I didn’t. I was afraid of the consequences. Seeing all of you alive, hale, and healthy also robbed me of my resolve. In the end, I just wanted to live a quiet life. I hope you will understand that.”

Steve paused for a moment. But before any of them could say a word, Steve said, “I came from the future. Specifically, I traveled back in time from 2023.”

Silence answered Steve’s declaration.

Bucky wanted to laugh, derisively, hilariously, even in disbelief. He did not. All Bucky could do was _stare_ at Steve, hearing the absolute truth in Steve’s tone and words. He knew Steve could not lie for his life, and yet his best friend had kept this enormous of a secret from him—from all of them.

The shrill ring of the telephone next to the recliner, and echoed by the one in the kitchen, shattered the silence. Peggy seemed to lunge towards it, as if grateful for the distraction.

“Carter,” she answered curtly. Five seconds later, she stated, “On my way. ETA fifteen.”

She immediately hung up the phone and without further instructions, Bucky knew that something had happened at SSR Headquarters. He was already in the midst of picking up and slinging his shoulder holster across.

“The crisis is not over. HQ is receiving reports of the same things that showed up a few days ago – except in Port Chester, Main Street,” Peggy stated, pausing only for a moment to look at the relative mess that Steve had created with whatever the hell the skull-on-fire thing, and other two people were.

“Take Natalia with you,” the thing unexpectedly stated. It was wearing half of his more youthful visage, which made it look even more frightening than just the skull on fire. “You and your fellow agents may need her help.”

“Wait,” Steve said, taking a step forward in alarm. “What are they facing—”

“Death incarnate is sending help,” Bucky said, narrowing his eyes slightly at the thing, feeling slightly suspicious.

“We’ll take it,” Peggy said in a short tone, surprising everyone.

Without another word or glance at Steve, Peggy immediately headed towards the door. Bucky followed her. Just as he snatched his duster from the closet and hurried out the door, he glanced back to see Steve and Michael also trying to follow. Both the thing – now transformed back into a skull-on-fire – and the man named ‘Tony’ had both stepped in front of the two.

Bucky didn’t wait, or stop to ask why. Whatever this mess was that SSR Headquarters was tangled in – they would solve it first. It would give him time and space to think about what Steve had said and done.

It would also allow him to consider if he could trust Steve’s word anymore.

~~~

“What the hell, Tony?” Steve angrily stated, as he tried to go around.

Tony kept sliding in front of him, but did not touch him. Considering the tenuous connection between Ghost Rider and the Soul Stone, he didn’t dare reach out to push Tony away. It seemed that Michael was at least taking his words about Ghost Rider being able to dissolve people, seriously. His brother-in-law had taken a clear step back from the rather menacing presence that Ghost Rider was giving off.

“Your wife – I’m assuming Aunt Peggy is your wife now – and the not-a-murderous-killing-machine you call your best friend are clearly angry at you. Clean up your mess, Cap,” Tony stated. “Starting with—who are you?”

That question had been directed at Michael. In the middle of Tony’s strange, uncharacteristic admonishment of him, Steve had noticed that Ghost Rider had moved to stand in the corner of the living room. He was worried, especially since he still didn’t fully understand the entity’s connection with the Soul Stone – and even more worried that the entity had _suggested_ that Natasha go with Bucky and Peggy.

“Michael Carter,” Michael answered. “Peggy’s brother.”

“Brother?” Tony questioned, looking surprised. “I thought she had a younger brother named Alex. Born what… May or June 1948? Accidental kid and everything with the parents. Didn’t expect a kid at their age, plus lack of condoms, and poof—”

“How do you know about Alex?” Michael challenged.

There was an edge to his brother-in-law’s tone. Steve knew that everything that Tony had just stated was true. Peggy and Michael’s parents had not expected to be welcoming a child, while nearing the age of 50. Though he had never read the file on Sharon Carter, Steve could connect the dots to reasonably assume that Alex Carter would eventually become Sharon’s father.

“Tony,” Steve intervened before things could get more out of hand. It was already enough that Ghost Rider had forced him to reveal _when_ in time he was from. Tony was just making it worse.

“Oh… oh,” Tony said, ignoring both him and Michael. “Oh, that’s who the picture on Aunt Peggy’s desk was. You. She never talked about you, but I remember seeing a sad look in her eyes on the 5th of November whenever she threw the pieces of paper into the bonfire.”

“Tony, please,” Steve said.

“Resentments are so corrosive, Cap,” Tony suddenly said, returning his attention to him, before jerking a thumb at Michael. “So, clean up your mess. Starting with Carter.”

As much as Steve wanted to throw a retort at Tony, he settled for shaking his head. It still made him uneasy to have realized that the ‘soul for a soul’ that Clint had described, involved trapping Natasha’s soul in the Soul Stone. It made him even more uncomfortable that Tony was trapped in the stone as well. He was also incredibly sad and angry that the stones extracted a higher price from Tony than just his life.

At the moment, Tony didn’t show signs of moving. Wanting a little bit of privacy without his friend’s commentary to make everything worse, Steve gestured for Michael and him to go into the kitchen.

“No need, Steve,” Michael answered, shaking his head slightly. “As fantastical as this all is, I believe you.”

“Well, that’s unexpectedly forgiving and trustful,” Tony spoke up before Steve could.

“Except for you,” Michael continued, pinning Tony with a heated glare. “Whoever the hell you are, stay out of my sister and Steve’s lives—”

“Michael,” Steve said, holding his hands up in a placating manner. “Thank you, but it’s all right.”

Though it heartened and sometimes exasperated him that Bucky could be overbearing at times, Michael took it to a whole new level. It seemed that facing death or at least little to no hope of escape from that infernal hidden HYDRA prison at the island, and then being freed, had given Michael a new perspective on life. His brother-in-law could be quite overprotective at times.

“Tony is a friend,” he continued.

“Was,” Tony corrected, much to Steve’s chagrin. “I’m dead. Broke my soul into six pieces like Voldemort did with the seven Horcruxes—oh shit! Those books haven’t been written yet—”

For once, Steve was glad that Tony had a tendency to throw so many random pop culture references into everything. It was enough to baffle and calm Michael down enough that his brother-in-law had settled on staring at Tony.

“Tony,” Steve gently interrupted, pushing aside his unease at the mention of Tony’s soul in pieces. “Thanks, but you haven’t answered my question: how do I build a machine? The tech now isn’t as advanced as it is in 2023.”

“ _You_ don’t,” Tony answered. “My dad builds it.”

“Dad?” Michael questioned.

“Man, have you kept silent this whole time?!” Tony’s rather exasperated question was directed at Steve. His friend didn’t even wait for an answer, rolling his eyes at him. “Would it have killed you to at least told them _some_ things? I get you don’t want to change too much things, but it’s way past that now, Rogers.”

Tony headed to the couch and took a seat. Despite being linked to the Soul Stone and somehow drawn out by Ghost Rider, it looked as if Tony could interact with inanimate objects. Steve did not take a seat though, as Tony seemed to silently observe both him and Michael for a few moments.

“Howard Stark is my father,” Tony stated after a few moments.

To Steve’s surprise, Michael did not react as he had partially anticipated – disbelief. Instead, his brother-in-law frowned, before going to the recliner to sit slightly opposite of Tony. Steve watched as Michael scrutinized Tony. Surprisingly, Tony was not reacting as Steve thought he would react as well.

Both of his friends were not behaving as he thought they would – and it worried him slightly. Tony always had a quip ready when put under the microscope, but he was being uncharacteristically silent.

As for Michael’s behavior, it reminded him of the times where Peggy would sit in the recliner and imagine some person of interest sitting before in the couch. Steve had seen her used the mental image of the imaginary person of interest to sort through what she knew for her cases. It wouldn’t be far-fetched to see Michael doing the same then.

“I’m willing to wait until Peggy and Bucky get home for you to give us a comprehensive explanation, Steve, but isn’t it dangerous to involve Howard?” Michael asked, frowning as he folded his arms across his chest. “He already has a lot of enemies and rival manufacturers. His security teams and protection on his patents, inventions, and devices are not all that robust. I mean, remember when he was accused of selling weapons to the Soviets in 1946?”

“You must be an intelligence agent,” Tony quipped at Michael.

“I had the same doubts,” Steve agreed before Tony could say anything else.

He was glad that Michael was being rational about recruiting Howard. The technology and stones that he carried specifically made him a rather large and attractive target for more than just industrial espionage. It was the sole reason why he refused to let Howard know that he was alive – that his and Peggy’s first and only argument thus far had been about.

That silenced Tony for a few long moments before Steve saw him sit forward. There was as seriousness on his face that reminded him of the time the Avengers had been discussing the contents of the Sokovia Accords.

“Rogers,” Tony began, folding his hands together. “You want to stay, you’re going to have to take the risk. As much as I hated my dad, all I remember now are the good parts. Strangely, and I’m going to hate myself for saying this: that included you, in his life. It’s your choice, Steve, but if I were you, I’d seize it.”

~~~

Peggy was well aware that she had a tight grip on the steering wheel of her car. She had to thank the fact that Thompson had required all agents – her included – to attach the rotating beacon whenever responding to emergencies. Traffic peeled out of the way, not allowing her to give into the shock that still coursed through her from Steve’s revelation.

“Glove compartment has cartridges for the rifle under your seat,” she directed to Bucky.

“Same sightings as what’s written in the report?” she heard him ask as he bent down to retrieve the rifle from under the seat.

“Yes,” she curtly stated. “The bullets for the rifle are custom designed and made by the engineers. Punches a hell of a lot more than what regular bullets from our pistols can do, but still takes a lot to take them down.”

Silence answered her, but Peggy saw Bucky checking over the rifle and cartridges before snapping a cartridge into the rifle, ratcheting it. “And then, they just fade away. Leaving no trace.”

“They just fade away,” she answered, nodding. She jerked the car around two other cars on the road who had not been fast enough to get out of the way.

“Do you believe him?” Bucky suddenly asked

Peggy took a sharp left and slowed down. They were on Main Street in Port Chester, paralleling the river. The night was clear and crisp, but Peggy could not see anything, even with the headlights on the car shining straight ahead. The other agents were not here yet, but would be shortly.

Parking the car next to the kerb, Peggy left the engine running, but did not move to get out yet. She could feel Bucky’s inquisitive eyes on her, and met it unflinchingly.

“I don’t know,” she admitted.

Anger, heartache, and sympathy flooded her. She wanted to believe that Steve was _her_ Steve miraculously come back from the dead. That his unexpected appearance on her doorstep on that day in 1946, at the luxurious apartment she had rented with Angie from Howard, was a dream come true.

Yet, what Steve had finally admitted, felt like a weight lifted that she hadn’t known had settled on her chest. It explained so much that she had tried to make excuses for, or discreetly figure out via the sketches he did.

“He selfishly went back in time for you,” the red-headed woman sitting in the back of her car stated. “For both of you. I may not know him as well as either of you did, but I know that he never does a lot of things selfishly. Give him a chance to explain himself—”

“Why?” Bucky questioned rather harshly enough that Peggy was slightly surprised at his tone.

“He’s your best friend—” the woman began, as Peggy noticed that she was wearing an utterly puzzled look; as if she could not believe Bucky’s harsh questioning tone either.

“No,” Bucky interrupted. “Why you? Why did ‘death incarnate’ tell you to come along with us? What the hell are we dealing with here tonight that’s been different from the other times? Why the fuck did you or that ‘Tony’ character not help before, if the two of you’ve been living in that stone?”

“It’s the same reason why we negotiated with Ghost Rider to _not_ let Steve know we were in the stone, Barnes,” the woman answered in a hard tone. “It’s the same reason why we’ve tried to hold the tide back as best as we could. We’re just out of time.”

“From what?” Bucky angrily asked. “What reason?”

“Give Steve a chance to explain himself,” was all the woman answered. “He came back for both of you. It’s the least you can do for him.”

“They’re here,” was all the woman said a moment later.

Peggy saw her slide across the back and exit the car in a normal fashion. Headlights shining down the long street from the distance told Peggy that the other agents were arriving. There was still no sign of the reported disturbance that was called into local police.

Peggy realized that that was the problem – there were no police around. She quickly got out of the car, her Walther already up and pointed forward as she sighted down all corners. Bucky had exited the car at nearly the same time she took action, rifle up and looking warily around.

As the other cars approached and stopped, she saw her fellow agents: Li, Calhoun, Thompson, Ramirez, Marshall, and Daniel get out of the cars they had taken from the city. “Carter. Barnes,” Thompson greeted curtly. “Anything?”

“Sir,” both she and Bucky answered at the same time.

“Nothing so far, sir,” she answered. It hadn’t escaped her notice that the woman, ‘Nat’, was not visible anymore. Where ‘Nat’ was, was a mystery, but she wasn’t about to reveal any further oddities at the moment.

The SSR was used to dealing with all sorts of unusual things – even here in the East Coast branch. But Peggy had a feeling that revealing ‘Nat’ was not going to do anyone any favors; least of all, Steve. Despite the ache sitting in her chest, she still kept Steve secret from the SSR.

“No police,” Daniel murmured, sweeping the torch in his hand up and down. What little they could see in the inky darkness of the river and bank, along with an intersection they had parked at, was ordinary.

“Who called it in?” Li asked, as Peggy saw Bucky carefully looking around, rifle at the ready.

“Anonymous tip,” Thompson answered.

“Any sign of Dottie Underwood?” Daniel asked.

“What does she look like?” Bucky asked.

Peggy knew that he already knew what the Soviet agent look like. It seemed that even without discussion, he was willing to help her maintain her cover – to confirm and possibly bring in Dottie from the cold as a turned agent. What reports Bucky had most likely read at Headquarters did not contain any photographs of Dottie.

“Blonde, tall,” Daniel described. “Definitely exudes innocence, but then turns into Rita Hayworth’s character from Gilda. Definitely someone you do not want to cross in an alleyway.”

“Sounds like you have a crush,” Bucky quipped.

Peggy didn’t think it was the right time or place for such a thing to be said, but she knew why Bucky said what he said. Word had gotten around fast that she was ‘old friends’ with Bucky. She partially regretted hugging Bucky in front of Daniel, and especially Rose.

By the time she had walked into work in the morning, the rumors that floated around about her and Bucky were beyond ludicrous. During the war, everyone thought she and Bucky disliked each other – that was a perspective they both readily agreed to enhance. It had made for his reporting to her about various intelligence-related details from the field ever more secret and secure.

At the present, Peggy ignored the light laughter from her fellow agents.

It was difficult to re-establish the ‘dislike’ of each other, since Headquarters was staffed with new agents who had not worked with both of them during the war. Thus, Peggy knew that Bucky was settling on the ‘irritated Peggy enough to cause her to leave London’ angle of their relationship. That angle would allow them to maintain a good working relationship, while giving the excuse for distance if needed.

“All right, split into pairs,” Thompson ordered, before Daniel could splutter too much in protest to Bucky’s quip. “North, south, east, and west—”

Peggy had tried her best not to let the same look she had given him during their 1946 mission to Soviet border appear. But despite her best efforts, Thompson had picked it up, and stopped, giving her a look. “Teams of four?” Thompson asked.

“Teams of four,” she answered, knowing that she did not have to expand on that suggestion.

“Barnes, Li, and Sousa, with Carter,” Thompson stated. “The rest with me. We’ll take south. Report back in fifteen.”

“Yes, sir,” Peggy and the other agents echoed.

“Forested canopies, Pegs?” Bucky asked, as Daniel and Agent Li gathered around.

“Forested canopies,” she nodded in agreement.

“You two Army?” Bucky asked, directing the question to Daniel and Li.

“Yeah, saw action near Bastogne in ‘44,” Daniel answered.

Li had nodded as well, but did not state where he had served. Peggy knew it was Europe, but Li was quiet, and usually did not speak up about what he had done in the Army during the war.

“Good,” Bucky stated, before making the appropriate hand gestures.

She saw the two’s eyes blink slightly in surprise, before silent nods of acknowledgment. In all the previous times the SSR had encountered the same situation, they had done so with sound, noise, and orders shouted to each other.

What Bucky suggested was a different approach that she remembered the Commandos using one time they had spread out to sweep a dense forest. That silent creep through the forest had saved their lives – and allowed them to completely ambush enemy forces.

He wanted to employ that tactic here, with her, Daniel, and Li. They knew little to nothing about what they faced before, other than the fact that the creatures faded away after being killed. Attraction to noise didn’t seem to enhance their abilities, but Peggy was willing to test any theory that would give them more information about the creatures.

It would also allow them to potentially sneak up on Dottie Underwood – if she was here. The Soviet agent was notorious for flitting in and out of their fights with nary a sound. She was also fast in escaping as well.

Peggy stepped out of her heels, leaving them by her car. She could fight comfortably in them, but for the sake of stealth, she discarded them. She took point with Daniel to her right, and Bucky to her left. Li was positioned on Bucky left.

Together, the four of them swept north along the road. They were spread out enough that they could still see each other, but still covered a wider area. And for a few long cold minutes, nothing jumped out at them.

Suddenly, Bucky held up a fist, halting all of them. Peggy warily looked around, noting that Bucky was not doing the same. Instead, there was a frown on his face, before a split second later, he spun to the left, and fired.

The shots missed Li, but they hit the shadow that had tried to creep up on Li. Chaos exploded all around them, as Peggy fired directly at the shadowed creature that was scrabbling towards her. Just as it resolved into the most hideously disgusting thing with rows of razor sharp teeth, it fell to the ground – disappearing instantly.

Reloading, she leapt back as another creature sailed by. It was brought down by several rapid shots from Daniel’s rifle. In turn, Peggy fired her Walther at another approaching creature, until that clip was also emptied.

“Li! Barnes!” Daniel’s shout for their fellow agent turned Peggy’s attention to her left.

Bucky was fighting off three creatures, with more rushing towards him. He was drilling precise shots into the creatures as fast as he could, but even with Li’s help, the creatures were going to overwhelm both of them soon.

Even before Daniel’s shout fully left his lips Peggy was in the midst of reloading – her third and final clip for her Walther. But she knew that she was too slow to match the speed in which the creatures were attacking Bucky—

Red hair flashed by her vision, followed by the sudden hissing noise. Three half-formed shadowed and monstrous creatures immediately disappeared. That sudden attack by what Peggy could only guess that ‘Nat’ had done was so fast that she didn’t even get to see _how_ the woman attacked.

Even more sudden was the ringing of metal slicing through flesh, in two wet thumps, behind Li. Peggy thought she caught a glimpse of Dottie Underwood beyond Li, but another shadow rapidly approaching drew her attention away.

Nine shots and several bursts from the rifles that the others carried later, silence fell upon the area. Peggy didn’t even wait for the remnants of the too-many-teeth creatures to fade as she glanced towards Li.

“Wait, Dottie!” she shouted, as she saw the telltale glint of the strange weapon – sword like, in her opinion – that the Soviet agent used to kill the creatures, flash.

It was too late though – the agent disappeared into inky night. Peggy saw Bucky take a few steps towards where Dottie had been last spotted, but it seemed that even he could not see where the agent had gone.

She knew Bucky had been enhanced by Zola to be nearly equal to Steve in terms of super-soldier augmentation. If he could not see Dottie anywhere, then the woman was as good as gone – again.

The noise of Thompson and the rest of the agents running towards them brought Peggy back to the forefront. Lamp lights, along with some storefront lights flickered on. She had not realized that they had been deliberately suppressed due to the creatures. This was a new development, and one that made her uneasy.

The cold wasn’t lifted, but it seemed that life was returning to the area. The lapping of the water in the river became a little louder, and the distant sounds of late night traffic floated by.

But, there was little she and the other agents could do at night. Everything would have to wait until morning – when they could see things better. This was a main thoroughfare for travelers, but it would have to be shutdown for the next few days until the SSR could collect every clue they could find – which Peggy knew would not be much.

Except for the fact that she now had an additional clue not known to them before: somehow Steve, or at least the golden yellow stone he had held in his hand, was connected to this. Sending the woman named ‘Nat’ with them had been somewhat helpful; even if she had not seen just how ‘Nat’ killed the creatures. Nevertheless, the redheaded woman was nowhere to be seen again.

“Marshall and Ramirez,” Thompson, began, shaking Peggy out of her thoughts. “Start cordoning off the area. I’ll go update the police on the situation. The rest of you, go home, stand by your phones, and be ready to respond at a moment’s notice. It looks like none of us are getting any sleep again.”

“Hey Bucky,” Daniel called out as Peggy made her way back to her car. “D’you need a ride to your hotel?”

“Thanks, but no,” Bucky surprisingly answered. “I’ll take a cab back to the hotel. I want to see if it’s possible for me to modify or adapt the bullets for my gun. Europe gave us customized weapons, and Peggy says that she has a few tools and left over cartridge she’ll let me use.”

To her surprise, Daniel nodded. Peggy could have sworn she had seen a slightly jealous look appear in her friend’s face when Bucky had mentioned customized weapons. She didn’t know SSR-Europe’s budget, but considering the engineers who worked there, she was not surprised.

Headquarters’ engineers were not from Howard’s teams he had during the war. They had been pulled from various research areas the Army had, after the war. While no less brilliant, Peggy felt the engineers at Headquarters were not used to developing experimental weapons and items in a fast manner. The engineers learned quickly, but their adaptability to the ever changing environment the SSR faced was lacking.

Getting into the car, Peggy glanced back to see that ‘Nat’ was not there. She did not see the woman anywhere, but waited only until Bucky got in and closed the door. It was with that closing of the door that ‘Nat’ suddenly appeared in the back seat, nearly startling her.

It took Peggy a few seconds to calm down, and a few more for the strange whine she heard to fade. A glance over towards Bucky – specifically his gloved left hand – showed that his hand was curled into fist. Peggy could only assume that the strange whine was a result of the metal arm that had been grafted onto him – that he had responded in a similar manner as she had done to ‘Nat’.

She slowly turned the car around, and drove away. “I’m assuming you have something to back that claim up, Bucky?” she asked, as the adrenaline of the firefight and the redheaded woman’s appearance began to fade from her.

It was slowly being replaced with uncertainty, and the fact that she and Bucky were returning to her home; to where Steve was. Her question to Bucky was as much of a deflection, as it was inquisitive. She knew that Daniel was interested in the chemical design aspect of the bullets – and would want to see if results could be made in adapting their regular pistols to use the customized bullets.

“Would I make that claim, if I didn’t?” Bucky countered.

“Daniel is sharp, Bucky,” she cautioned. “He’s done some forensics work as a New York police officer, before he signed up for the war.”

“It’ll hold to scrutiny,” her friend stated. “David made it.”

Peggy faintly smiled. David Brewster was Howard’s protege during the war, and had become a brilliant engineer in his own right. The young man had left both the SSR and Howard’s employment after both Bucky and Steve had been declared dead – heartbroken and despairing.

When Michael and Bucky had been found alive, Howard had tried to rekindle a working relationship with the young man – inviting him to work in the California branch of Stark Industries. Peggy only knew of the invitation, because Howard had tried to get her to go to London with him to personally convince David.

She had refused. It was not her place to do any of Howard’s bidding. She was glad she refrained from it. Michael had told her that David had been recruited into the joint engineering teams that MI-5 and MI-6 shared. It seemed that as separate as SSR-Europe and their patron, MI-5, was, David was still customizing weapons for Bucky.

Peggy glanced back for a moment, but ‘Nat’ was still sitting silent. Returning her attention to the front, she asked, “Do you want me to drop you off at your hotel right now?”

Bucky was silent for a few long moments before he took a deep breath, and nosily blew it out. The action reminded Peggy of Steve – and of how Steve would sometimes have a far away look in his eyes whenever performing it.

There was no such faraway look in Bucky’s eyes though, as he said a moment later, “Steve has answers to whatever the hell those things were. I wanna listen to what he has to say, before considering my options.”

“I do as well,” she agreed.

* * *

_Later…_

Steve took a deep breath, feeling the hungry, devouring ache of the Reality Stone lash against his mind. It felt like an endless abyss of darkness that clawed at him, but did not overwhelm him. Natasha was tempering the Reality Stone’s insatiable thirst.

But only so.

Ghost Rider was nowhere to be seen, but Steve had a feeling that the entity was somewhere near. Both Tony and Natasha were back within the stone, providing the barrier that they had been maintaining since he had been given the responsibility of putting the stones back.

He knew that his friends and family – if they allowed him to call them that anymore – had questions about the Soul Stone, but even Steve could not answer them. He knew little to nothing about the mysterious stone.

Reality around him and the others blurred, as Steve summoned the images from his memories. “I was found above the Arctic circle,” he began.

Blinding snow, and the wreckage of the war bomber surrounded by the light markers that SHIELD had set up faded. It was replaced by what Steve remembered seeing SHIELD footage of him on ice. “The year was 2011,” he continued, trying to avoid Peggy’s slightly horrified look at him.

He showed what he woke up to, including the hum of the radio playing the baseball game. “The organization named SHIELD, found me.” As he poured his memories into showing them his escape from custody and bursting out into the middle of Times Square, he saw all of their eyes widen in shock at just how chaotic the place was.

“They were the successor of the SSR, which had been dissolved in 1947,” Steve stated, deciding not to show the memory of him and Natasha wandering around the old SSR base in New Jersey. It would invite more questions than he wanted to answer. There was also the memories he had of Bucky as the Winter Soldier that he _definitely_ wanted to avoid.

Bucky was not the Winter Soldier anymore; there was no need to subject Peggy, Bucky, or Michael to those despairing memories.

“In 2012, I was recalled to active duty,” he said, showing the memory he had of Fury handing him the folder with the Tesseract details. “SHIELD had the Red Skull’s weapon – the Tesseract – in their possession, but an Asgardian named Loki had stolen it. Loki was under orders from Thanos, who needed that weapon.”

As briefly as he manipulated the Reality Stone to show what exactly the Avengers had fought against, he made sure that Peggy and the others saw Bruce, Natasha, Thor, Clint, and Tony. He also made sure that they saw Thanos’ image, even though all Steve could draw from was his 2018 and 2023 memories of the Mad Titan.

“We called ourselves the Avengers,” he continued. “And we protected the world as best as we could. The threats came from both terrestrial, and extraterrestrial – outer space. But, we weren’t always successful in protecting everyone.” He paused for a moment, his courage faltering ever so slightly before a tendril of warmth and comfort from Natasha bolstered him.

“Peggy,” he began, focusing his eyes on her. “We were briefly reunited for about five years, but you passed away in 2016.”

“Oh, Steve,” Peggy began, looking dismayed.

“At the same time, a… political incident happened that caused the Avengers to disband,” Steve continued, as Michael put an arm around Peggy in comfort. “I was labeled a fugitive, and spent the next two years on the run.”

“What?!” the three of them echoed at nearly the same time.

“Show us?” Michael asked after a moment.

Steve had deliberately left the Reality Stone’s projection blank – a grey state. To show that Bucky was the reason why, was to bring questions that led back to the Winter Soldier. He was adamant in not letting that part of his life – or even Bucky’s – be known. This life they had now, was the new leaf turned over for them.

He shook his head. “In 2018, Thanos attacked Earth again – stronger. He was searching for six powerful stones: Mind, Time, Space, Power, Soul, and Reality. The Reality Stone is the one I am currently using to show you my memories.”

He looked at the stones and their original housing and forms that they had been hiding in. “The Red Skull’s weapon,” Peggy whispered, reaching up to touch the image of the Tesseract. Her hand passed through the image, but Steve could see a concerned look on Bucky’s face.

“You’re _using_ the Reality Stone?” Bucky asked.

“Only to show you, to tell you my story… my journey,” Steve answered, before manipulating the images to show the battlefield of Wakanda. “Tony led a separate team off-world, while the rest of us defended the Mind Stone. By the time we managed to gather a force to fight Thanos, he already had the Space, Power, Soul, and Reality stone in his possession. Tony’s team defended the Time Stone.”

“Wait,” Bucky began, as Steve let the memory of the last stand in Wakanda expand and wash over him. “That’s me,” his best friend continued.

“You… had also been frozen in time,” Steve began, knowing that he could not keep all of his memories of Bucky in the future from the three. He could keep the Winter Soldier ones away, but Bucky here and now, deserved to know just how hard he had fought in the war against Thanos.

“You were freed, and you returned to fight,” he said. He couldn’t help the bittersweet smile that quirked up the edges of his lips.

For a few seconds, Steve let more of his memories of the desperate battle in Wakanda pour into the Reality Stone. He didn’t need to look at the others to know that they were wide-eyed in astonishment and fear of what the future possibly held for them.

“But ultimately, we failed,” he stated. “We lost.”

The snap of Thanos’ fingers echoed all around them. Thor’s disbelieving protests were heard, before Thanos disappeared into a cloud of blue-black smoke.

_Steve?_

Steve couldn’t bear to see Bucky disappear into dust and ash again, and squeezed his eyes shut as the memory was drawn from him. He heard the memory of himself whisper, “Oh, God,” at the same time Bucky had stated that out loud within the living room.

He opened his eyes and looked up. He forced himself to continue on, saying, “Thanos killed half of all life within the galaxy, with the six stones. That was trillions of lives. The surviving Avengers wanted revenge, and pursued Thanos to where he had escaped to. He had destroyed the stones to render his doing permanent. Those of us who survived lived with that reality for five years.”

“In 2023, using research and technology that had previously existed, but was not known to all of us, Tony managed to create a time-traveling device,” Steve said, showing the memory of Tony and the others working on constructing the device, and of the small ‘time GPS’ wristband.

“Our goal was to go back to various points in time, steal the stones from there, and assemble it together. We were going to undo what Thanos did and bring everyone who had been dusted by the snap, back.”

Natasha’s warmth filled him again as he faltered for a moment. “It was not without further sacrifice though. Natasha—” he showed her image to them “—gave her life to activate the Soul Stone.”

The image of Bruce clutching the glove with all six stones pouring their dark energy into him appeared, before another loud snap filled the room. “What we did not anticipate, was Thanos following us from a point in time, back to 2023.”

As the images of the battle between Thanos and his forces, and the Avengers and their reinforcements flitted by, Steve was careful to not show himself wielding Mjolnir. He needed to return it to its proper place in time, and wanted to avoid any further question. It was enough that Peggy, Bucky, and Michael would soon know that he carried all six stones – separately – but that he was also carrying a lot of technology.

With the Cold War and arms race between the United States and the Soviet Union heating up, he was unwilling to put the three of them at further risk than he already was. They knew about the stones. They did not need to know about how his armor came to be, Mjolnir, or anything else.

“We tried to get the glove away from Thanos – to throw it back in time,” he explained. “But his forces were too much for us to handle. Even with the addition of the strongest fighter on our side—” Steve specifically showed Carol Danvers fighting toe-to-toe against Thanos. He had been briefly in awe that she had survived Thanos smashing his head into her.

“—was not enough.” Thanos wielding the glove, and the Avengers and their allies’ desperation to keep him from snapping his fingers filled the air. “It was Tony, who made the ultimate sacrifice.”

_And I am… Iron Man._

Tony’s snap of his fingers seemed to crackle like thunder. The damage was done again, as Steve briefly looked away. He clearly remembered each and every single detail as Tony’s life faded away.

Steve curled his hand around the stone. “I’m supposed to return the stones,” he quietly spoke up, breaking the silence that had fallen.

He opened his hand again. The Reality Stone was back in its separate compartment, seemingly sated with what he had done. Yet, Steve couldn’t help but look at his left hand.

“To prevent too many timelines from splintering, I’m supposed to return them,” he explained. “It was supposed to be a one-way, continuous trip, but…”

Steve paused for a moment, knowing that he alone, had done this to himself. “I wanted to see all of you again, one last time. I wanted to give myself a timeline where I didn’t wake up to a world unknown. I was supposed to be transient, but I didn’t want to leave the three of you without myself – here and now – reunited. Yet, after two years of searching, I can’t find my frozen body here, in this point in time.”

_We both need to get a life._

_You first, Steve…_

“I don’t want to leave,” he whispered.

~*~*~*~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So many questions, so many answers and consequences to come in the next few chapters...


	6. Memory Extraction Session: печь + морозилка

**Memory Extraction Session:** **печь** **+** **морозилка**

“ _Jesus Christ my balls are going to fall off if it gets any colder than this,” Bucky heard DumDum mutter, his voice clearly audible across the eerily silent, partially destroyed building they were currently sweeping through._

“ _Well, at least we'll have something to contribute to the Christmas decorations they're adorning the headquarters with,” Falsworth's bitingly sarcastic quip answered DumDum complaints._

“ _I'm sure the ladies would greatly appreciate the decoration if it were placed as a tree topper,” Steve followed up in an equally dry tone._

“ _Ha ha, Cap,” DumDum answered, as Bucky fought to contain his laughter._

_It seemed that the other Commandos did not have any reservations about keeping their laughter hidden, as a rash of chuckles erupted across the abandoned building._

_Wistfully, Bucky thought: if only the press and even those who interviewed Steve for their morale films knew just how dirty of a mind Steve had. It would completely destroy the 'squeaky-clean' image of Captain America. The weekly comic strips that were printed in the papers back home about 'Captain America and his Howling Commandos' wouldn't be able to print their sanitized stories any longer._

_Both_ _Bucky_ _and Jones were the ends of the sweeping line of the Commandos. They had staggered to cover the width of what looked like a former factory._

_Bucky turned the corner of the bombed out first floor and halted. All thoughts he had earlier were quickly shoved to the side as he held up a fist, immediately pointing his rifle in his other hand towards the door that was at the end of the hall. Something about the door at the end of the hall, even though there was nothing on it – not even a lock – and it gave him an uneasy feeling._

_The laughter among the Commandos abruptly died._

_He felt and heard Morita sweep up to his left, as he lowered his fist and readjusted his grip on his rifle. Following Morita, he saw him pause at the door, on the hinge side, and pointed his rifle at the handle. Bucky aimed his rifle at height and nodded once for Morita to yank the door open._

_Quickly sweeping across all four corners, nothing from the darkness jumped out at them, but something did emerge from behind the door – a most foul smell. While it wasn't comparable to the stench that had been the result of his metal items being strangely turned to mud a couple of months ago, this smell was different._

_There was something coppery about it, or sulfur that reminded him of the factories. It was clearly mixed in with what shit smelled like that had been frozen. Bucky knew only because he had accidentally stepped in horseshit when he was thirteen and forgot to completely clean his shoes off before stowing away in the ice cream truck's freezer locker with Steve._

_Reaching for his flashlight, Bucky drew it out and snapped it on, tucking it into the palm of his hand that held the underside of the barrel of his rifle. Sweeping all four corners again as Morita's flashlight joined his sweep, there was nothing to indicate that the area was another room – only a passage down a flight of stone stairs. Silently, he stepped in and began to slowly make his way down, with Morita following close behind him._

_The stairs were a spiral wind, much like what he remembered reading in Becca's books about the old castles of yore. The walls were incredibly dry, and there seemed to be no draft pushing air around. The smell remained, lingering, almost seemingly cloyingly clinging onto him, but he pushed on._

_Soon, after spiraling for two revolutions, he saw a faint amount of light begin to spill into the staircase. There was either a window or some light source at the bottom._

_Continuing down, he didn't hurry towards the light, as each step towards the bottom became more visible and brighter. Still, he did not snap his flashlight off, as he kept his grip on his rifle tight and listened closely for any sign of an ambush._

_It was only when he finally reached the bottom and ducked his head_ _to step out,_ _that he stopped where he was. Horror gripped him as he saw what was spread out before him in the dungeon-basement of this factory._

_Cages upon cages, some as large as a lion's circus cage, some smaller than what a pet dog lived in, lined either side of the enormous underground hall. Slits of windows high above in the ceiling showered light into the hall, barely illuminating the place. However, it was neither of those that had him staring in pure, horrific shock._

_F_ _rozen bodies of children_ _were within_ _those cages._

_Bodies upon bodies, the children looked half-dazed; some looked asleep, some had clearly a starving look about them with their distended stomachs and too-thin arms – but all had the blue-tinge of being frozen to death. Even more appalling was the fact that there was an enormous furnace in the center of the room, and it was empty._

“ _Oh God,” he managed to utter in a whisper as Morita's rifle clattered to the ground beside him, with Morita himself also stunned._

“ _Morita, Barnes, sit-rep,” DumDum's voice immediately answered the clattering sound._

_Bucky tried to form words, tried to say something, but nothing was working. All he could do was stare, stricken that something—someone would do such a thing._

_What monster would leave children in the basement of a factory, and forget them? What monster didn't even fill the furnace to at least give them some semblance of warmth? What monster used children and had the gall to starve them? What monster--_

“ _Oh my God,” Steve's whispered exclamation of horror snapped him out of his fugue._

“ _Christ Almighty,” Falsworth muttered, as the others chimed in with their own curses or kept silent in the same manner that Morita had done._

“ _We need to bury them,” Morita was the first one to break the silence that followed the rest of the Commandos' descent into the basement hall. “We need to bury all of them.”_

“ _They deserve at least that much in death,” Jones muttered, agreeing._

“ _There was a hardware shop of sorts about two hundred yards before the factory,” Steve spoke up. “Falsworth and Dernier, go see if you can find shovels or anything that we can use to dig holes.”_

“ _Yes, sir,” the two answered, grateful that despite their original mission, they were not going to just leave the bodies of children who died in such a horrific manner here._

“ _The rest of us will carry the children up and get them ready for burial,” Steve continued._

“You have not wrapped this one in a command, yet this is the third time I have observed you watching this memory today, Ivchenko.”

“I am attempting a new technique to embed the command. After that last session, I would not want to have a repeat of that… incident.”

To Bucky, the voices of Zola and Ivchenko seemed to be muddled and barely audible. As he swam up from the depths of darkness and back into the world of cold, agonizing pain that seemed to crawl under his skin, the voices became more coherent.

“Surely the guards present know not to fire their weapons _at_ the asset?” Zola asked.

“That is why you are here, Zola,” Ivchenko stated. “Have you brought it?”

“Enough to keep him sedately lucid for thirty minutes,” Zola answered. There was some shuffling noise, but Bucky was still in too much pain to attempt to open his eyes. “The more doses I inject him with, the more resistance he builds up. Will you be able to complete the command wrap in thirty minutes?”

“Are you so sure that your formula will still work on him?”

There was no answer from either scientist, but as Bucky slowly blinked his eyes open, the world blurred into focus. The scientists were standing a ways away in their usual spots, and the giant globe-sphere thing that projected his memories was frozen on Steve yet again. Except that there was a grim look on Steve’s face.

It took Bucky a few long, excruciating seconds of pushing through the pain that wracked his body, to realize that the scientists and he were not the only ones in the room. Several guards, dressed in the green uniform of the US Army were present. In their hands were rifles that glowed blue—

“Ah, the Winter Soldier is now awake. Good. Begin sedation, Dr. Zola.”

Bucky opened his eyes wide at the words, only to have his vision filled with a white lab coat and an eerily familiar smile upon a rotund, balding head. An acute prick of pain sliced into his left leg. His world spun—

_It was the potent smell of coffee that woke Bucky up._

_He blinked the sleepiness from his eyes as he sniffed the air again – it definitely was coffee – and to his surprise, Steve was brewing it. It seemed while he had been sleeping in their foxhole, Steve had somehow silently dug and expanded their foxhole enough to place a tiny campfire within the hole._

_Smoke filtered out of the other hole, carefully funneled by the interesting slope that Steve had dug within their foxhole. He caught Steve’s rather brash grin at him, before hearing him say, “Rise and shine, sleepyhead.”_

_Bucky couldn’t help but chuckle at the words: Steve must have trained under Sergeant Duffy as well. The drill sergeant was the only one to ever shout those words in their ears as unpleasantly as possible at four in the morning._

“ _What time is it?” he asked, yawning slightly as he stretched as best as he could within the cramped space. However long he had slept was a godsend, and Bucky was surprised that he had slept as soundly as he did._

“ _Just a little after six,” Steve stated. “I’ll be right back, after I give this pot of coffee to the rest of the team.”_

_Steve then carefully climbed out of the foxhole, taking the rather aromatically pleasing smell of coffee with him. Bucky couldn’t hear him move around the area, but a few seconds later, heard the tell-tale whisper of Steve saying, “Merry Christmas, Gabe. And a Happy Christmas to you, Monty. Tins out, got some coffee for both of you.”_

_The hushed, but grateful and excited exclamations that followed Steve’s offering floated by. Bucky smiled to himself. After what had happened with finding the frozen children, along with their rather angry march to contested lines, and then camping in the frozen wasteland for the past few days, morale was low._

_Bucky had tried to at least cheer Steve up yesterday by giving him back his compass, but with an additional item inside of it – a photograph of Peggy. He thought that Steve wasn’t fully aware of just how much his actions, emotions, and reactions to things influenced the behavior of the Commandos, but Bucky found himself pleased that he was wrong. Steve going around from foxhole to foxhole with fresh coffee for the rest of the Commandos was do so much to lift all of their spirits up._

_Deciding now was a better time than never, Bucky focused his thoughts back on his duty. Shrugging the blanket he had shared with Steve, off slightly, he shuffled forward slightly. Taking his sniper rifle that had been positioned at rest, but ready for action, he peered through the scope. There was nothing he could see, except for more snow falling in the fields._

_Minutes later, Steve entered their foxhole, tin not empty as Bucky thought it would have been. Instead of coffee within the tin though, there was some fresh snow packed into it. “Snow cone on Christmas?” he facetiously asked._

“ _No,” Steve answered, grinning as he placed the tin back over the fire. “Coffee for both of us.”_

_For a few moments, Bucky was speechless. He had not expected anything for Christmas from Steve – especially not here. “When did you bring or get coffee?” he couldn’t help but ask, as the snow melted rather quickly, and he saw Steve stir in the last of the ground beans into the tin._

_Steve shook slightly, but then turned towards him for a moment, trying to contain his laughter. “Promise you won’t tell the others – especially Philips?”_

“ _Steve, why the hell would I rat you out to Philips?” Bucky asked, shaking his head as he grinned._

“ _I stole it,” Steve simply stated, returning to stir the coffee around a few times. “Peggy taught me how to filch, when she caught me trying to nick one of Howard’s test cartridges for closer examination.”_

_For a few seconds, Bucky couldn’t help but **stare** at his best friend. It was absolutely absurd, but considering what he knew of Steve’s girl – it seemed to fit her. “Peggy Carter and Steve Rogers, bank robbers extraordinaire,” he couldn’t help but joke. “The new Bonnie and Clyde?”_

_That got a bark of laughter out of Steve, though it was still subdued enough that only Bucky heard it. Seeing that Steve was being incredibly generous with his coffee, Bucky reached inside his uniform’s pocket, and pulled out something that he had been saving for later._

“ _Here, Steve,” he said, unwrapping and waving the stick of candy cane at him. “You’ll need a cigar to go with your new image.”_

_Bucky saw the laughter in Steve’s eyes slowly melt into that of surprise. “Bucky…” Steve hesitatingly began._

“ _Christmas, Steve,” Bucky reminded him, before crookedly grinning at him. “Besides, you’re not the only one with filching skills. Got it off the tree they put up.”_

_That got a smile out of Steve, as his best friend took the stick of candy cane. He watched as Steve stuck a small part of it into his mouth, lips pursed slightly, with his tongue playing briefly over the stick_

_An unexpected fluttering sensation bloomed within Bucky’s stomach, and he quickly looked away, feeling himself flush ever so slightly in warmth. He forced himself to breathe as normally as he could, suppressing the wild thoughts going through his head. Now was **not** the time— _

_Steve crunching down on the candy cane stick caused Bucky to glanced back, as he heard his best friend ask , “ Want to try candy cane in your coffee, Buck?”_

_However innocent the words were, Bucky was glad that Steve had followed up on the action associated with the word s . What was left of the candy cane was hovering over the tin, ready to be dropped. Bucky managed to shrug, and the candy cane instantly disappeared in the dark, aromatically pleasing—_

“He is resisting again… why do we not see these resistant memories? Why are you still allowing it, Ivchenko?”

“The more he tries to resist, the easier it becomes for me to slip in, and embed the commands. Watch, my skeptical doctor, at the series of stop commands that I have managed to extract and embed within him...”

“… безразличие.”

… _how long are you going to keep doing this…_

… _as long as I need to…_

“… незапятнанный.”

… _t_ _he shield howled in derision at him…_

… _t_ _hose vivid blue-green eyes of his looked up…_

“… сумеречный.”

… _tangling their fingers together for a moment…_

… _all he could do was wait until dusk melted into nightfall, and for nightfall to bleed into daybreak…_

“… морозилка.”

… _he enjoyed surprising him at times, now that they were both the same height…_

… _your north star…_

“What… what have you done to him, Ivchenko?

“He is still breathing. I have immobilized him – forced his sluggish thoughts brought on by your chemical injection to tell his body to stop moving, except to breathe. He cannot move, even if his resistance memories trigger the monster within him to wake up. We are perfectly safe at the moment. I need you to observe and make notes so that you may incorporate the sedation level associated with his brain activities into your contraption.”

There was a pause before Ivchenko continued to say, “It is as you say, Zola, the more we attempt to sedate him using chemicals, the more resistance he builds up. We must make it a manipulation of the mind so that when these or any other stop commands are given, the body triggers this state.”

“Fascinating… absolutely, wonderfully fascinating…”

Silence enveloped the area, before Zola said in a half-awed tone, “I will be sure to incorporate this particular aspect into the design. May I presume that you will now embed the command into that thrice-watched memory?”

“Yes,” Ivchenko simply stated. “Witness, Dr. Zola, the creation of… печь.“

… _there was an enormous furnace in the center of the room, and it was empty…_

… _carry a frozen body, child or adult…_

Bucky screamed—

~*~*~*~


	7. Fissure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Theme: '[Fissure](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3fTlS5qjAGo)' by Ninja Tracks.

**Chapter 4: Fissure**

… _carry a frozen body, child or adult…_

_ He  screamed— _

Bucky looked up as the door to the second bedroom in Peggy and Steve’s house, opened and closed. Footsteps approached, and stopped before him. The bedroom doubled as a guest room, or Steve’s art room, considering the enormous table and paraphernalia of graphite pencils, paint brushes, canvas, and other items in the corner.

Warm, slightly damp skin, touched his forehead, and the fresh scent of soap filled his nose. Michael’s comforting embrace drew him in, warming him further from the chill that he felt. It was enough to shake Bucky out of the waking nightmare that he had somehow fallen into.

“Sorry,” he apologized, glancing up and shifting slightly on the edge of the bed where he sat. It had been almost a year since he had had a waking nightmare. He didn’t know what triggered those horrific memories right here and now – when he should have already been getting ready to sleep.

To his chagrin, he was still fully clothed; he hadn’t even loosened the tie he had been wearing all day, while Michael had been in the shower. “I should—”

“Go talk to Steve, Bucky.”

Bucky blinked, surprised at the amount of understanding in Michael’s tone. “I wish I didn’t… I wish I wasn’t like this,” he whispered. “I wish I didn’t remember anything during… like you—”

“Bucky, go talk to him, please,” Michael repeated, crouching down so that they were eye-to-eye. “He said that you were freed in his time, remember? Maybe… maybe he can tell you how, or what happened…”

The beginnings of their long, on-going disagreement with how Bucky himself could find ways to cope with his nightmares died on his lips. As much as he wanted to protest, say that he shouldn’t be as weak and of a mental mess as he was, something in Michael’s eyes silenced him.

They hadn’t had this disagreement in over a year – not since he had been undercover and behind enemy lines for that length of time. The night before he had left for his mission had been one of the rare nights that the disagreement hadn’t come up. Now, since returning, he had barely spent two whole nights with his lover, and those nights had been won out by nightmares, and pure exhaustion of a mission completed.

Bucky knew that it wasn’t fair to Michael, for him to be saddled to Bucky like this. Yet, they had found physical and mental comfort with each other; similarities, seduction, and eventual mutual caring borne from the war.

“Talk to him. He’s still awake and in the dining room,” Michael said, reaching out and loosening Bucky’s tie, before drawing it over his head. “For me, please?”

There was an earnest pleading in Michael’s tone – enough that Bucky was greatly reminded of Steve. Silently nodding, he leaned forward and gently pressed his lips onto Michael’s forehead. “I will,” he whispered, getting up.

Exiting the bedroom, the steps down the stairs to the first floor seemed to be arduously long. He paused for a moment as he saw what was laid out in the living room: the couch had a pillow and blanket. He didn’t need to wonder why Steve was sleeping in the living room, and not with Peggy in the master bedroom.

It didn’t take him long to cross the living room and stop at the threshold. The kitchen’s lights were off, but the dining room’s light still cast a glow into the kitchen. Steve was sitting hunched over at the table, sketching something on a piece of paper. There was a pile of sketches off to the side.

The man named Tony was sitting across from Steve, seemingly dictating something to Steve. Of Nat, or Natasha, she was no where to be seen, but the skull-on-fire thing was standing in the corner of the dining room like a silent sentinel.

Tony had stopped talking as soon as Bucky showed up, drawing Steve’s attention away from the current sketch. Bucky didn’t like the critical look that Tony was giving him – as if evaluating if he were a threat. It was the same look that the man who looked similar to Howard Stark had initially given him, while muttering some confusing words.

“Bucky,” Steve greeted in a slightly hesitant tone.

“Can we talk?” he asked, knowing that he had to do this – for both his own sake, and Michael’s. “Privately?” he continued to ask, indicating with a gesture of his chin towards Tony and the thing that had worn a more youthful version of his face.

The hesitancy in Steve’s tone disappeared, as Steve nodded, looking relieved. “Sure.” Bucky saw him turn his attention to Tony, saying, “We’ll work on this some more later, if that’s all right?”

“There’s some time,” Natasha’s voice unexpectedly spoke up, as Bucky saw her suddenly appear, leaning against the wall opposite of where Steve sat. The woman then glanced over at the skull-on-fire thing, saying, “It’s not as dire as Ghost Rider is making it out to be. There’s still some time – not a lot, but still enough to make amends.”

“And after everything, neither of you still won’t tell me what **it** is?” Steve asked, while putting all the sketches on the table into a folder.

Internally, Bucky frowned slightly. It seemed odd that Steve wouldn't know what exactly time was running out for. Yet with what he heard, it also seemed that the two people within the stone were determined to keep whatever ‘it’ was from Steve.

“Go, Steve,” Natasha gently said, before disappearing. Tony had disappeared as well, but the skull-on-fire entity remained, seemingly ignoring all of them.

Bucky heard Steve sigh, shaking his head slightly before returning his attention to him. “Let’s go outside, if you’re okay with that, Buck?”

Bucky glanced over again at the thing that had worn his face, before shrugging and saying, “Sure.” While he was sure that the thing could overhear them, he was glad that Steve was giving them a semblance of privacy.

It didn’t take either of them long, or cause a lot of noise, to put on their coats and head outdoors to the back of the house. Steve didn’t go out farther than sitting on the steps that led to the back yard, and Bucky sat down with him. He noticed that Steve had yet again, forgotten his gloves – an old, but surprisingly comforting refrain.

It was cold out here, but Bucky wasn’t bothered by it. During Operation Midnight, he had spent nearly the entire mission in the cold regions of Siberia. He watched as Steve huffed out a breath before looking up at the crystal clear skies of the inky night. There was a strange mix of a light, carefree look in those blue-green eyes of his, and sorrow as well.

“You must have so many questions for me,” Steve said at last, looking over at him.

“But you’re trying not to answer all of them, are you, Steve?” he asked instead.

“Some, but not all,” Steve admitted.

Bucky glanced down at his hands in his lap, still gloved in leather. He had already determined that his left hand would be gloved and hidden as much as possible. He hated what Zola had done to him, in addition to giving him his hated super-soldier augmentations—

“When you said I was ‘freed’, what did you mean by that, Steve?” he asked, looking back up and over at Steve.

“I found you,” Steve began. “You had been frozen, and were… grievously injured. It took you a couple of years to heal. I wanted to be there for you during that time, but because I was a fugitive myself, I didn’t want to place you in danger. So… we lived apart. Only to be reunited when Thanos attacked that second time.”

“We lived apart?” Bucky questioned, slightly puzzled, yet a little curious if the words that Steve seemed to have purposefully chosen, were true.

Instead of answering him, Bucky watched as Steve deliberately weaved their fingers together, flesh-and-blood palm resting against gloved metal palm. It took Bucky a few seconds to realize what he was seeing – his eyes shot up to Steve, widening in shock.

“Laws in the United States and around the world were passed, during the time I lived in the future,” Steve answered, looking sightly sad. “Hiding about who you loved wasn’t considered a crime anymore – at least in the United States. There were still intolerant people and nations, though. People still hated, but the majority supported those laws. I wanted to take you, Peggy, and even Michael back to the future, but… those were not peaceful times either.”

Bucky heard Steve sighed and saw him shake his head. Steve’s eyes were now cast out into the inky night instead of focusing on him. “Neither of us really got to ‘live’, while in the future, Buck. Everything changed for the both of us. It wasn’t fair that by the time we truly reunited, you perished. I was alone for five years – really alone – and after everything, all I wanted to do was return to a world I knew. I’m know I’m being selfish, but I can’t stop.”

Steve returned his gaze onto him, saying, “Peggy and you. The two of you are the ones I care deeply about. My loved ones. My family. I want to stay, if you’ll have me.”

Speechless, Bucky stared at both Steve and their entwined hands for a few long minutes. It was everything he had longed for and dreamed of; yet it seemed not real. A myth, a legend, a derisive laugh that could shatter the illusion. Watching himself dissolve into what looked like dust in that extraordinary battle against Thanos was terrifying. But seeing himself step through that portal in the final battle – ready to help Steve—

Bucky abruptly disentangled their hands, startling Steve. “You left me behind,” he said, realizing the gravity of what Steve had done – to his own self in the future.

“Bucky—” Steve protested.

“You said you spent five years alone, and now you _don’t_ want to return. After all the hell I just saw—”

“I will return a few seconds after I left in that point in time,” Steve interrupted. “It’s built into the device. The time I spend here is nearly instantaneous time from the time I left in 2023.”

“But it doesn’t change the fact that you’ve already spent two years without myself in the future? That you _left_ my future self behind. We made a promise, Steve—”

“With each other, until the end of the line,” Steve stated in a solemn tone. “I know. I _know_.”

At once, the armor formed around Steve,  faster than it had the first time he had witnessed it .  Before Bucky could protest and argue some more, a memory from Steve surrounded both of them:

_The woods were peaceful and quiet. Most of the Avengers were already scattered after Tony’s funeral. Only a handful remained to help Pepper, Morgan, and Happy before they too would leave._

_The time transport device had been built out of the prototype scrap that Tony had initially tinkered with. Steve hadn’t known that Tony had shipped the prototype back to his cabin in the woods, but he was glad that Tony had done so. Building the device from scratch using what blueprints they could recover would’ve taken them weeks._

_Even so, the stones that were tucked in his armor’s compartments still felt like lead weights. He could feel the tendrils of power brushing across his mind. One whispered sweet nothings in the voice of Peggy, trying to seduce him to use the stone. Another felt like staring at an endless swirling storm of madness—_

“ _Hey.” Sam’s greeting and clap on his arm drew Steve out. “Ready?”_

“ _As ready as I can be,” he answered, nodding. “Take care, Sam.”_

_At that, Sam laughed, and Steve forced himself to grin. But when he turned to Bucky, he saw the knowing look in his best friend’s eyes. Bucky **knew** what he, Steve, was about to do._

_ There was no malice, scorn, or admonishment in Bucky’s eyes. All Steve saw was acceptance that their journey, their ‘train to the end of the line’ was  complete . Bucky knew what was coming, and was ready for what would happen afterwards. _

“ _Don’t do anything stupid until I get back,” he said, letting go of Bucky._

“ _How can I?” Bucky gently retorted. “You’re taking all the stupid with you.”_

_ S teve stepped back and made his way up the platform. He tapped the inset twice to activate the time jump armor, and picked Mjolnir up, hooking it to his side. Taking one last look at his friends, he then tapped out the coordinates [ 09-24-1946,  63°17′34″N 168°42′05″W ]— _

— _and_ _ disappeared. _

The memory faded, returning to the inky, cold night sky. At nearly the same time, the armor that Steve wore bled from him, and receded back into the wrist bangle. Bucky looked at Steve before glancing down at his gloved metal hand. It was still unnerving to see himself as he was in the future – longer hair, but seemingly almost as tired as Steve was.

But he had **seen** himself let Steve go – possibly forever – so that Steve could live here and now.

“Do you know what happened to me before you found me, in the future?” he quietly asked, looking back up.

Steve’s eyes tightened minutely, but it was enough for Bucky to tell that Steve knew, and didn’t want to say what it was. Bucky could only assume that there were some memories that Steve was unwilling to share with them – more horrific than watching trillions die before his eyes. “Sorry,” he apologized. “That’s your past, and probably a future that will never come to pass—”

“It won’t,” Steve said, surprising Bucky with his hard, sharp tone. “Your future… frozen in time, will never happen.”

Bucky remained silent for a few long moments before saying, “Whatever it was, my future self isn’t here to say it. But I am. So, thank you, Steve. For rescuing me, and giving me a second chance at life.”

He reached out and placed his left arm around Steve’s shoulders. He was slightly surprised that Steve allowed himself to be drawn into an embrace. Just as Bucky rested his chin on the top of Steve’s head, he felt some wetness against his chest. Steve was shuddering ever so slightly under his arms, and Bucky realized that his best friend was silently crying.

Whether it was for happiness or sadness, or even both, he just held him. “Stay, Steve,” he said. “Stay, be happy, and live _your_ life.”

~~~

Steve didn’t know how long he stayed like that, clutching Bucky’s coat and shirt underneath, and crying into Bucky’s chest. Relief from the words Bucky had said, and grief for all that he had lost clashed together until it had overwhelmed him. It had been a long time since he had cried so openly. Natasha and Tony’s death had not afforded him time to properly mourn—

“Let’s get you inside, before your tears start to become icicles, yeah?”

Steve sniffled, rubbing his eyes and nose with the sleeves of his shirt, before feeling Bucky thrust something him, sighing and saying, “For a what… forty-year-old, you sure still cry like a twelve-year-old.”

Steve blinked, and couldn’t help but smile slightly as he saw Bucky was holding out a handkerchief for him. Taking it, he wiped the rest of the tears in his eyes, but did not blow his nose into it.

“Thirty-eight,” he managed to grouse as Bucky then helped him stand up. “Or close to thirty-nine,” he conceded, as Bucky gave him a look before they headed into the house.

That got a snort out of Bucky, as he said, “Well, you’re now a hell of a lot older than me, but don’t start thinking about doling out life advice, punk.”

“Wasn’t going to tell you that things go downhill after thirty-five anyways, jerk,” he gently retorted, pocketing Bucky’s handkerchief. “I’ll wash the handkerchief and return it to you later, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Bucky agreed, before abruptly headed towards the couch.

“Bucky...” Steve began, protesting as he saw his best friend sit and stretch out over the couch.

“Go to sleep in your own bed, Steve,” Bucky said, deliberately turning away from him, as Steve saw him pull the blanket over him, and stuff the pillow under his head. “You owe Peggy as much of an explanation as you owed me.”

In a quieter, more serious tone, Steve heard Bucky say, “She’s your wife Steve, the one you made a **vow** to. In sickness and in health, _you_ promised to be there for her.”

Silently, Steve nodded, knowing that he had no argument against Bucky’s words. Peggy had quietly went up the stairs and into their bedroom as soon as Steve had finished showing them his memories via the Reality Stone. Steve had heard the door click shut, and had assumed that Peggy did not want him to sleep in their bed tonight – thus he had pulled out another spare set of pillow and blanket.

“I will,” he quietly stated, going into the kitchen and taking an empty tin out of the cupboard, before turning the dining room light off. Ghost Rider was no longer standing in the corner like a sentinel, but Steve could reasonably assume that the entity was still somewhere close by.

Going back into the dark living room, he then removed the ‘time GPS’ device from his wrist, feeling the weight of the stones lessen on his mind. The seductive pull of the Power Stone tried to entice him to put the device back on, but Steve was well fortified against the mimicry of Peggy’s voice, by Bucky’s statement.

Taking and placing the tin into the dirt, before placing Peggy’s box over it, Steve gently pushed the floorboard close. The rug was adjusted back to its original position, and he stood back up. Bucky was watching him through half-sleepy, heavy-lidded eyes, but there was a smile on his lips.

“Thank you,” he said, going over, as Bucky rolled over and fully closed his eyes to sleep. Placing a hand on his best friend’s shoulder, he saw Bucky reach up with his other hand and gently pat his own. “Good night, Bucky.”

“G’night, Steve,” Bucky sleepily said.

Steve hesitated for a moment, but then shook his head, and decided not to do what he almost impulsively wanted to do. The past was the past – his past specifically – and even if Bucky now knew what he knew about him, it wouldn’t change a thing. He had his loved ones in his life again, and that was enough for him.

~~~

Bucky felt the weight of Steve’s hand on his shoulder for a moment longer than usual, before that weight disappeared. As he heard Steve’s footsteps fade up the stairs and away, he opened his eyes again. Rolling over, he stared at the area where the rug covered the floorboard, and frowned.

Steve _knew_ about him, about his deepest secret, and Bucky wasn’t sure if he was relieved or scared of that. The derision, rejection, and emotional pain that he thought – irrationally – would have come from his best friend, had not. Instead, there had been acceptance, and even a hint of reciprocation – but only in the future.

There was only acceptance now,  as Steve was married to Peggy. Bucky knew that he could not – and would not – tear that away from  Steve .  It heartened  Bucky as much as it saddened him.  He had Michael, but was slightly surprised that a part of him still  _wanted…_

Bucky roughly shook his head, both mentally and physically as he tucked the blanket around him a little further. Burying his face into the pillow was the wrong thing to do, as he smelled Steve’s scent on the pillow. It was both comforting and not. In turn, it brought forth more recent but not fond memories…

“ _Because you died in another reality. Another universe. Another point in time.”_

“ _Steve?”_

Just how many times did Steve watch him die? Or Peggy, for the matter? Nothing was mentioned about Michael, but Bucky didn’t know what to make of it. Michael had been declared dead once in 1942, before being found as a prisoner of HYDRA by the SSR. Then, Michael had been declared dead again in 1945. Perhaps Steve had found the record, which could possibly be why Steve had not made any mention of it.

But how many universes, timelines, or elsewhere, had Steve gone to, or watched him or Peggy die? It felt like someone had walked over his grave, as the image of himself fading into dust briefly played over his eyes again.

Bucky shuddered and focused his eyes on the rug again. He had been sleepy enough to almost fall asleep, but now couldn’t anymore. He saw death, and death was wearing his face.

Beneath the rug, beneath the floor, and the dirt was a device so powerful that it had the potential to wipe out half of all life. He wasn’t even sure if Steve was aware of it himself, but Bucky had _noticed_ that Steve looked to be in discomfort, whenever he used the stones.

It wasn’t quite a tick, but it was more Steve grimacing whenever using a stone. He didn’t know what exactly they were, other than what Steve had shown them, but he could tell that they were  incredibly dangerous.  Whatever and however Steve was going to ensure that he stayed here, in this time and now, Bucky hoped that it would not involve the stones too much.

The thing called Ghost Rider had demanded Steve to return the stones, but Bucky had a feeling that returning the stones was not the price that Ghost Rider wanted Steve to pay.

* * *

_Early next morning..._

There seemed to be a more relative calm around the house, compared to last night. Peggy had gone to bed with a heavy weight of sorrow and relief, mixed with worry and a touch of anger. It had not been her intention to sleep separately from Steve, but she had been grateful for the space between them.

The door seemed like a solid wall for her to gather her thoughts, process what she had seen, and calm herself down. Steve… was not _her_ Steve, yet he also was. Steve had been through so much, seen too much, and Peggy didn’t know where to start.

A s the minutes of the solid door that stood between them dragged into hours, Peggy had contemplated going back down to fetch Steve; to tell him  that she forgave him. That she still had mixed feelings about what he had done, but that s he still loved him.

B efore she could do that, the rear door  on the first floor  had opened. She watched, peeling back a small corner  of the curtain at the window on the ir second floor bedroom, as Steve and Bucky talked. She had seen Steve entwine his hand with Bucky’s gloved metal one, and she knew what it meant.

P eggy wasn’t proud of the small burst of jealous feelings that had arisen  when she had seen that. But she knew that she could not deny what she saw – especially since she had  _seen_ the mutually affectionate looks in both of their eyes towards each other during the war.

There was an incredibly strong bond of love – brotherly and otherwise – between Steve and Bucky that surpassed simple, or even passionate affection. It was something that she knew that she could never compete with. Nor would she ever try to.

Steve’s heart was generously open to those he loved dearly, and Peggy knew that it encompassed both her and Bucky.  Michael was a part of the familial love, but there seemed only to be a n endless depth reserved for both her and Bucky.

M inutes after the two had returned inside, Peggy had heard footsteps come up the stairs. To her surprise, it was not Bucky returning to the  spare  bedroom he shared with Michael, but Steve returning to t heir bedroom .

Steve had  gently knocked and murmured an apology. Peggy wanted to throw open the door and fall into his embrace, but she h ad been much too tired from the day. She had simply opened the door,  silently  took his hands, and led him in.

A t the present, Steve had woken up early, but Peggy smelled the wonderful scent of a hearty breakf ast being cooked.  Crossing into the living room, she saw that a folded blanket and pillow were sitting on the corner of the couch, but the lock box that held the contents of her information about Dottie were not at the coffee table anymore. She could only assume that the box was stored underneath the floorboard again.

Steve was at the kitchen, finishing up cooking breakfast, while  Michael was setting out the last of the plates, utensils, and cloth napkins. Bucky had placed the pot of coffee brewed to the side, having filled all four mugs. Seeing that she had nothing to do to help, Peggy joined her brother and Bucky at the table.

It was a luxury that she got to sit with her family at the dining table – even more so considering the events of last night  in Port Chester. She had thought that the phone call from Thompson or others would have both her and Bucky bolting out of the house in the middle of the night, to respond to another emergency.  But even that seemed incomparable to the memories, wonders, and terrifying vision of the future from Steve’s memories.

“Will your friends be joining us today, Steve?” she asked, curious and a still little disturbed. There was no sign of the strange entity with the skull-on-fire in the kitchen and dining room, or of the two people Steve claimed to be his friends, from the stone.

She was sure that Steve would have found some way to free his friends from such imprisonment. But after seeing her husband’s memories, it seemed difficult to release people from the stones. While that didn’t settle well with her, she was further greatly unsettled at the fact that the entity Steve called ‘Ghost Rider’ had the ability to do so – and was _not_ releasing Steve’s friends to be completely free. Still, little had been spoken of, or said after Steve had whispered his heartbreaking, confessional wish to stay.

Peggy didn’t understand why Ghost Rider seemed intent on Steve returning the stones, or how the woman named ‘Natasha’ and her claim to be unable to ‘hold back the tide’ factored into it. She had heard the genuine confusion within Steve’s tone about not making a bargain with the devilish entity. But neither did Steve offer an explanation.

Her brother, Michael, certainly hadn’t told her anything, even after he had knocked on her door last night to say a simple goodnight. Peggy knew her brother was excellent at ferreting and inferring information with just a simple glance around the room. Yet, for him to keep silent about what he and Steve possibly discussed when she and Bucky had been responding to the SSR emergency, was strange.

Perhaps Michael knew little to nothing as well—

“I’m not sure,” Steve admitted, frowning slightly as he brought the plates of eggs, sausages, and toasts over. She saw him look around before shrugging. “I honestly don’t know how the Soul Stone works, other than what Clint – one of my friends – told me: a soul for a soul to activate and claim it. I would’ve returned that stone first, but—”

“The Soul Stone acts as a barrier for when the other stones are wielded,” the unexpected, slightly sultry voice of the woman named Natasha spoke up. “I would highly suggest that it is returned last, Steve.”

Peggy wasn’t the only one to jump slightly, but she was glad she was seated, instead of standing. The red-haired woman named Natasha was seated at the head of the table, with an impish smile on her face. The whirring whine of Bucky’s metal arm spooling up and then down at the woman’s unexpected appearance briefly filled the air.

“Nat,” Steve began, sounding slightly annoyed. “Please stop scaring them like that.”

Peggy saw the woman purse her lips, as if considering Steve’s words before shrugging in agreement. “ Sure, but only if you’ve fully agreed to stay. Tony  tells me that you weren’t exactly paying attention to sketching, or jotting down details on the blueprints last night.”

“And I’m assuming Tony can still speak for himself?” Steve questioned, sounding even more annoyed.

Were it not for the fact  that Peggy was still uneasy about whatever bargain Steve seemingly struck with the entity named Ghost Rider, or otherwise, she would’ve thought that the argument between Steve and Natasha sounded almost sibling-like. “So your friends are joining us,” she intervened before things could get even further out of hand.

“Guess so,” Tony spoke up, appearing next to Michael, while simultaneously shoving the chair next to Michael closer to Natasha. “Can’t eat when you’re dead though…even if I miss your terrible cooking that made everyone miserable, Rogers.”

T he expression that crossed Steve’s face was an interesting mix of insulted offense and sadness, before the latter seemed to override Steve’s grief at the  flippant remark  of death made by Tony. As Steve went back to the kitchen for the condiments to go with the toast, Michael spoke up, asking, “ Let’s get back into more diplomatic territory.  Introductions to everyone else here?”

“A Black Widow, and high probability that Mr. Egotistical is either Howard’s son, or grandson,” Bucky stated, pointing to Natasha and Tony, respectively. “You have some seriously strange taste in friends, Steve.”

T he casualness of Bucky’s remark  caused the tinkling of forks and knives  against plates  to pause.  Peggy slowly placed the mug of coffee down, as she noticed that both  Natasha and Tony were staring at Bucky as well. Steve had returned and quietly set down the condiments, before taking the final seat at the dining table.

“Someone with that enormous of an ego, and recklessness in weapons-building from Steve’s memories lends credence that there is a high probability in relation to Howard Stark. The fact that you were advising Steve last night about blueprints reinforces that fact,” Bucky stated, taking a sip of his coffee.

Far from being offended, Peggy saw a tight, unfriendly smile appear on Tony’s face. “Anthony Stark,” the man introduced himself,  but seemingly had focused his intense, almost  hostile look on Bucky . “ Howard’s my old man.  I only introduced myself to Michael here last night, so it stands to say that perhaps he told you after all of that.”

“Tony,” _both_ Natasha and Steve warned at the same time.

Just that one word  of a raised tone from the two was enough for Peggy to infer that Bucky of the future had not gotten along with Tony at all. Whatever bad blood  there was between the two, had not been shown by Steve. Peggy was sure  Steve had to intervene a number of times between the two, and sympathized with his plight.

To her slight surprise, Bucky didn’t rise to the challenge in Tony’s tone.  Instead, h e just merely flicked his eyes over towards Natasha.  “ Widows don’t have a distinctive hallmark in the way they fight, but there are elements of the same kind of schooling I saw last night, between you and Dottie Underwood,” Bucky calmly explained.

“Natalia Alianovna Romanova,” Natasha stated in a solemn tone. “That’s the alias they gave me. I was the last of the Black Widows trained, and the only one to successfully defect. From what I saw last night, it looks like the one alias as Dottie Underwood may also be trying to defect.”

“Yes, I believe so,” Peggy spoke up, curious. “Do you know of anything that could help?”

“Dottie Underwood died in a secret Siberian outpost in 1947, in the other timeline. She was hunted down in the US, dragged back to that silo, and executed. Two bullets to the chest and a snapped neck,” Natasha stated.

Peggy found it strange that there was a careful tone being used, as if there were some  detailed  things that she knew about this particular era in time, but didn’t want to say. Considering  how old Natasha looked, Peggy found it even more strange that she would know  such details. The conditioning of the girls at the ‘school’ on the border didn’t lend any facts that they forced the girls to know what happened to any of them, should they fail in their mission or defect.

“How many Widows did that take?” Bucky asked, breakfast completely forgotten. “To bring her back?”

“None,” Natasha stated. “The Soviets used another asset that does not exist in this timeline. Steve’s arrival here changed a lot of things.” In a softer tone, Peggy saw a bitter smile quirk up the woman’s lips, as she said, “Maybe… maybe she’ll survive this time.”

“She has at least twenty-one other Widows coming after her,” Bucky stated. “They were all activated and sent out into the wild, given aliases, and are hunting for her. Anything you know that could help her survive?”

“Twenty-one Widows...” Natasha mused, strangely amused. “They didn’t even bother going with the single successor trial. Have the successor Widow kill the defecting Widow to prove her loyalty and take the title.”

The amusement in Natasha’s eyes died, as realization overtook her. “They’re going to end the Program entirely.  Now. Not in five decades, ” she said, giving both her and Bucky a most curious look. “What  _did_ either of you do to the Soviets?”

T o deny was to outright lie, and Peggy  could see  that Natasha was too sharp to buy into any denial. Instead, it was Bucky who glanced over at Steve, asking, “ I take it that Peggy had a large influence in the world when both of us were asleep? But I thought I was asleep until more recent times in the other timeline?”

S teve silently nodded – to both questions it seemed. “I trust her with my life, Bucky. She can be trusted with all of this.  With both of your work at the SSR. ”

“And the SSR was the predecessor to SHIELD,” Peggy murmured, remembering Steve’s words last night. “SHIELD helped you defect. Took you in from the cold, didn’t they?”

“Gave me a family,” Natasha said, nodding.

B ucky was silent for a few moments, tenting his gloved fingers together. Peggy saw him glance up at Michael asking, “Did you get to read the debrief, or a summary of  the operation  before you left?”

“Some, not all,” Michael answered in a neutral tone.

“My partner and I were behind Soviet lines for the better part of about one-and-a-half years,” Bucky stated, focusing his eyes on Natasha. “We destroyed everything that came from what they called ‘Department X’ or ‘Red Room’. That included their capability to train and produce the Black Widows.”

S ilence fell around the table before Peggy saw a rather hungry, predatory look within Natasha’s eyes. It was not directed at Bucky, nor was it to Steve, when the woman focused her eyes on Steve and smiled.

“Dottie Underwood is in good hands, Steve,” was all Natasha stated, before focusing her attention back on Bucky. “Thank you, Barnes, for doing that. For giving myself in this timeline a better future.”

T he unexpected statement of  gratitude surprised them all. Despite the animosity between Bucky and Tony, even Tony looked slightly amazed at the turn of events.  There was silence from Bucky, but he was turning a rather interesting shade of pink  in  embarrassment , before nodding once.  Peggy could only imagine that few ever thanked Bucky for doing what most considered dirty work  in the espionage business – especially with his  deadly  skill set.

“Do you remember where you were—” Steve began.

“Rogers, don’t,” Natasha said, shaking her head. “I’m still not telling you where or when I was really born. Regimes fall and change, and they might be doing so sooner than later, now. I’m Russian, and I’m not going to weep over the fact that I don’t have a life in the States. Call me a Communist if you want, but I want myself here and now, to live a different life.”

“All right,” Steve nodded, slightly surprising Peggy that he was not pushing the issue of potentially rescuing Natasha from living under Soviet rule, somewhere in the future.

“And maybe my own father won’t be such a dick, now that you’re staying here, right Steve?” Tony spoke up.

E yes turned towards Steve, Peggy’s included. They had not discussed anything of the sort, but considering what Bucky had obliquely mentioned about Steve and blueprints, she thought it was a forgone conclusion.  Now, Tony seemed to press doubts into that.

“I’m staying,” Steve confirmed, nodding. Peggy reached over and grasped her husband’s hand, just as he continued to say, “but I need you to work in a fail safe into the blueprints Tony.”

“Fail safe?” Tony questioned, looking puzzled.

“1948, Tony,” was all Steve said. “You _know_ how many enemies your father has – how many you had. If he builds this, he’s essentially painting an enormous target on his back. I’m not going to risk your father’s life, just to stay here. If push comes to shove, it needs to be destroyed, stones returned or not.”

“Steve…” Natasha began, her worried tone carrying the same worry as Peggy felt.

“No, no,” Tony interrupted, nodding. “I get it. Dad could be a real asshole sometimes, but yeah. I get it.”

“Then it’s settled,” Peggy said, squeezing Steve’s hand before letting go and getting up. She made her way over to the phone. “How long did it take you to build the machine, with the materials you had on hand, Mr. Stark?”

“Erm, what are you doing, Pegs?” Michael asked, as Steve and Bucky look at her in puzzlement.

“Summoning Howard here as soon as humanly possible,” she stated, before focusing her eyes on Tony. “I’m assuming that this ‘time is running out’ message that you, Ms. Romanova, gave us, is because of these creatures that the SSR has been facing yesterday, and a few other times?”

“No,” Natasha answered, shaking her head slightly. “None of those creatures are from the menagerie that are trapped within the Soul Stone. Ghost Rider sent me out so I could kill some of the creatures. It’s to help reinforce the barrier that is holding back Thanos’ army when Tony snapped them out of existence. To buy some time before the barrier becomes too thin. What the SSR is facing is not of any of our doing.”

Peggy frowned, as Bucky gave Natasha a sharp look. “Nat?” Steve asked, eyebrows furrowed.

“The Soul Stone tempers and regulates the other stones, Steve,” Natasha explained. “If it is used with the others stones, such as what happened the first time around, all souls snapped out of existence end up within the stone – stored there. A piece of the stone wielder is also stored there as an additional barrier. You know my ledger is gushing red, Steve.”

“And that _personal_ ledger is a barrier to keep Thanos’ army from escaping,” Steve said, eyes wide with disbelief. “God, Nat… why didn’t you…?”

“Shut up and don’t carry that guilt, Rogers,” Natasha admonished. “It was my choice, and Ghost Rider adhered to it. Go punch it, if you think it’s a bully.”

“Then time is still running out,” Peggy stated, not appreciating the rather dark humor from Natasha.

The fact that Natasha all but verbally confirmed that Black Widows were trained assassins – and that Natasha herself had personally killed many people, made Peggy slightly uneasy. Steve striking up a sibling-like friendship with such a dangerous woman made her a little apprehensive. Yet, she couldn’t judge Steve for that – she herself was trying to help Dottie Underwood – a Black Widow herself – defect.

She’d be a hypocrite, if she didn’t accept Natasha as she was. The red-haired woman had, after all,  sacrificed herself for the rest of them – to stop an all-consuming evil within the world… galaxy even.

Peggy’s  thoughts spun.

“Slowly, now that three of those creatures from last night are helping with the barrier,” Natasha stated, nodding in agreement.

P eggy decided not to press for details, and instead, focused her eyes on Tony, asking again, “How long did it take you to build the machine, with the materials you had on hand, Mr. Stark?”

“A couple of weeks, ma’am,” Tony spoke up, grimacing slightly.

“Did you just ‘ma’am’ my sister?” Michael murmured, giving Tony a strange look.

“But that was with materials that haven’t been invented here yet,” Tony continued, seemingly ignoring Michael’s amused look. “It might take a month at the least, with 1940’s tech—”

“I thought that’s what we’ve been adapting the blueprints for, Tony,” Steve began.

“All bluster and no substance then, Stark?” Bucky challenged.

Peggy rolled her eyes as an argument looked to erupt, and picked up the phone. Requesting the operator to connect her to Howard’s number, she pressed the handset to her ear. The phone was picked up on the third ring.

“Good morning—” Peggy began.

“Hey, English,” an unexpected voice answered, slurring drunkenly. “Been a while since you visited out here. You calling to make a trip?”

“Angie?!”

Whatever argument was going in the dining room was silenced by her exclamation, but Peggy was not paying attention to them at all. Instead, she had briefly pulled away the handset and looked at it, before placing it back to her ear.

“Yes,” Angie answered, laughing rather drunkenly. “Of course it’s me, silly. It’s a great party that Mr. Stark is throwing here—”

Peggy groaned, shaking her head and glanced up at the ceiling. Of everything that Howard was doing in California, the parties he threw for the cast and crew of his fledgling movie company were the worst. Peggy had just happened to run into one of those parties before, in New York, when she and Angie had been renting an apartment from Howard.

“Angie, would you please put either Mr. Jarvis, or Mr. Stark on the phone? It’s—”

“Oooh, something you can’t tell me about? Hmmm?” Angie said, in an attempt at a conspiratorial whisper, but dramatically failing to do so. Fortunately, it seemed her friend was not as drunk as Peggy thought her to be. After a second, Angie brightly said, “Sure thing, English. But promise me to come out a visit soon! I want to show you the movie set before we’re done wrapping up!”

“I’ll try,” she said, glancing over towards those in the dining room and shook her head.

Michael gave her a sympathetic look before leaning over the table to tell Bucky what the exchange was about. Bucky had never met Angie Martinelli before – since he had been deployed on his mission before Peggy had a chance to introduce Bucky to Angie. Steve had picked up her mug of coffee and silently offered to bring it over to her, but she shook her head, indicating that it was not necessary.

Angie was not drunk enough like the last time she had rung up her phone, causing her to stay up for six hours. They had talked and commiserated about the loss of a lead role Angie was in the running for, to another starlet. Peggy had ended up drinking nearly the entire pot of coffee after Angie had hung up – tired but needing to go into work.

“Peggy!” Howard’s cheerful voice blasted across the phone.

“Go secure,” she cut in before Howard could say anything else. In turn, as she listened to Howard splutter, realizing that she was being serious, Peggy reached cross the sink to pluck a tiny device from the plant sitting at the windowsill.

Unscrewing the caps to both ends of the handset, she placed the two parts of the device on each end. Screwing the caps back on, she brought the phone back to her ear, and waited.

Two minutes passed before Howard’s voice came back through the phone, tinny but still audible. “Secured,” was all Howard said, the cheerfulness gone from his tone.

“I need you here, shadow condition five,” she stated the code words she had made Howard memorize.

While renting an apartment from Howard was a generous payback for all that she had put up with in clearing Howard’s name, her friend had insisted that it was not enough. The ‘I owe you one’ had turned into a promise to help, no matter what – for Howard to drop whatever he was in the middle of doing and just come and help her. Peggy never thought she’d be using it, and would’ve thought that Howard was – to quote Bucky’s recent caustic words thrown at Tony – ‘all bluster and no substance’.

There was silence on the other end, before she heard Howard answer, “Jarvis and I will be there tonight, nine at the latest. Teterboro Airport.”

“Thank you,” she said, and pressed the switch hook to hang up. After disconnecting the secure device and configuring the phone back for normal usage, she turned towards the dining room and gave those seated a tired smile.

“Howard and Mr. Jarvis will be here by nine tonight, at Teterboro Airport.”

* * *

_Later, New York City, SSR Headquarters..._

There wasn’t a lot more on Dottie Underwood that Bucky could find in the archives, that wasn’t already in Peggy’s notes in the lock box. He did find a different picture of her within the folder that the SSR kept on her. It was more of a glamour shot than the utilitarian one Peggy had.

“Didn’t I tell you? As gorgeous as Rita Hayworth.”

Bucky looked up from the folder to see Sousa leaning against the door frame that led in and out of the stuffy area. He inclined his head in agreement before asking, “Thompson’s looking for me?”

“No,” Sousa answered, shaking his head. “Just thought I’d find you here, looking up stuff about her after what happened last night. Figured that if you have any questions, I’d be the best in answering.”

“I heard Peggy was the one who encountered her first, and interacted with her the most,” Bucky carefully stated, closing the folder.

Sousa nodded in agreement. “Federal agents aren’t supposed to have biases when it comes to law and order, but you can’t just stamp it out of everyone. Otherwise, we’d be ineffective. Peggy pointed Underwood out as a clear threat to all of us, and we ignored it. Not our finest moment, I’ll admit that, but she was right. Just like she was right about Howard Stark all along.”

The agent stepped in further, but did not shut the door. The conversation was not private, but Bucky got the sense that Sousa didn’t want his next words to be heard by any passerby. “Now, she’s claiming that Underwood wants to defect. That’s a whole spin around from the killer Soviet agent that Peggy had claimed her to be.”

“I saw Underwood kill two of those things yesterday with some sword-like object. Do you believe Peggy?” Bucky asked.

Thanks to his spending over a year with his mother while in the field, he had seen exactly how Dottie Underwood killed the creatures with her sword-like object. It confirmed to him that the woman was trained in the same school that his own mother had been trained as – a Black Widow. The only difference between his mother and the Soviet agent aliased as ‘Dottie Underwood’, was that Underwood fought with more evolved fighting style.

“No,” Sousa answered, shaking his head slightly. “I think she’s going to become a Soviet mole, if we bring her in from the cold. I’m not sure how much you’ve read about the Howard Stark case, but Peggy and the Chief went over to the border to investigate some Soviet coordinates for a weapons exchange setup.”

“I heard a little about it from the other Commandos,” Bucky nodded. He did not mention that he and his mother had traveled to and searched through those ruins. “Said that Pinkerton was killed nearly point blank by an innocent little girl with a gun. DumDum got stabbed by the same girl,” he continued.

“Yeah,” Sousa said, looking slightly uncomfortable. “From the way Peggy described her fight with Underwood at the airfield, it sounds like the lady is a product of that… school. Can’t believe that they would even do things like that to girls, much less women.”

“Hidden in plain sight,” Bucky murmured.

“Don’t get me wrong,” Sousa spluttered slightly. “I’m not saying Peggy can’t handle stuff on her own, but… it’s just… the way her report said that subliminal messages were hidden in that movie reel of Snow White. It’s… eerie…”

Sousa took a deep breath and seemed to refocus himself, looking at Bucky, worried. “I’m worried about Peggy. She won’t let the idea of Dottie Underwood defecting, go. No matter how much I try to convince her of the facts that she herself presented. As an old friend of hers, I was hoping that you’d have a better chance of convincing her than I did. Would you please do so?”

Bucky considered what Peggy had in her lock box case, the discussion from breakfast, along with the plea and rationale he heard from Sousa. All were convincing in their own right, but it seemed that while the rest of the SSR – or at least Sousa – knew that Peggy argued for defection, everyone else thought of Underwood as an obvious Soviet double-agent trap.

It seemed that Peggy was planning to find Dottie, and secretly smuggle her to safety. That was, if the route maps, along with several snippets of hand-written contact information that looked to be of the shady sort in her lock box, were anything to say. The only problem with Peggy’s plan was that the woman only showed up whenever there was one of those strange shadow creature attacks.

“I can try,” he said.

“That’s all I can ask,” Sousa answered, nodding in relief. “Thanks.”

Sousa left, and Bucky took another look at the cover of the file he held in his hands before reaching up to re-file it in its proper place. While he was worried that there were twenty-one Widows out in the world, and only the initials of their known aliases, it was Natasha’s words during breakfast that made him curious.

Gratitude for what he had done was never said to him, nor had he expected it. He knew what he was – assassin – but the fact that Natasha thanked him for a better life now, was concerning. Added to the fact that Peggy’s report on the ‘school’ for the girls involved subliminal messaging being embedded within the girls’ mind made him think that the girls were unwilling subjects.

“I think you could give The Thinker statue a run for its money, Barnes.”

Bucky managed to contain his response to immediately attack down to a mere one-second low-high-low pitched whisper of his metal arm spooling up. He supposed he was getting used to the fact that Steve’s friend just appeared and disappeared as she pleased. But it was rather annoying—

“And I take it that despite whatever relationship you had with Steve, you never listened to him?” he quietly stated, glancing towards the door to the archive room to ensure that no one saw them talking.

“Only when in battle,” Natasha impishly stated, smiling up at him, as she stood close to him.

Despite being a messenger of death – or whatever the hell Ghost Rider was – there was at least an inch of space between them. She was standing close enough for him to get a good personal look at her – the sensuous curves of her breasts, hips that most likely invited men into her bed with a simple sway, doe-eyes that played innocent when the need called for it, and sinewy strength that seemingly laid hidden away.

Bucky couldn’t help but smirk; as his eyes roamed about her, taking her in, she had done the same to him. A Widow’s Call, he had secretly termed the conditioning that he had read about in one of the reports found within another ‘school’ during his mission. It was a siren’s call for mostly men – the targets of the Widows. His mother had stated that while it was used mostly on men, there were times where that ‘siren’s call’ was used on women.

Bucky had developed his own ‘siren’s call’ out of necessity – when he had been growing up in Brooklyn. He used it to date the girls he liked, and to rope them into bringing a friend in to date Steve. The first time he had used his ‘siren’s call’ on a man had been on Michael. That had been during the war – when Philips had ordered him to vet Peggy’s brother as a potential double-agent.

He had sort of failed in that mission. He had changed the parameters of the mission on his own, when he found out what Michael really was, and the secrets of Operation Midnight. Bucky had been glad that he had done so.

“But even then, Steve generally went with more of the wild ideas I had,” Natasha followed up after a moment.

“Like that flying thing you caught a ride upon, during the battle in New York against this Loki fellow?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

He knew Steve was sometimes easily swayed to do some rather riskier things, but put is foot down most of the time. Steve caving into Natasha’s insistence could’ve been attributed to the fact that even he, Bucky, would’ve been hard-pressed to deal with the chaos in New York in a calmer manner.

Natasha hummed, but did not confirm or deny. She merely gave him a cheeky grin.

Bucky couldn’t help but chuckle, feeling strangely at ease with her. “I have to ask,” he said. “You knew me in the future?”

“I had known you for a little while,” she stated, nodding in agreement.

“Were we?” he began, then gestured to just how close they were standing.

Even after sizing each other up, it would be natural to step away and give some space to each other. But Bucky did not feel a need to step away – even if Natasha could move one inch closer to him and dissolve him right then and there.

She smile, sad and knowing at the same time. “No,” she answered.

“That’s it?” Bucky couldn’t help but ask.

“A girl’s gotta have her secrets, Barnes,” Natasha said.

“< _Even if she was brainwashed and forced to serve her motherland?_ >” he softly asked in Russian.

“< _You saw,_ _you read about_ _what the did to us, in the Red Room._ >” she answered, the smile disappearing from both her eyes and lips. “< _Any one of us would have been unwilling to go through that, without those mental conditioning… exercises…_ >”

“< _I’m sorry I couldn’t get to you earlier in the other timeline, Natalia._ >” he said.

A bitter smile and chuckle escaped her lips, as she shook her head. “< _Please don’t start sounding like Steve. It’s not who you are. Even in this timeline._ >”

“< _Then how do I save Dottie Underwood?_ >” Bucky asked.

She looked up at him, capturing him with her eyes. “< _Be who you are, Barnes. Find and hunt her down. Save her, if you can – save my fellow Widow sisters as well. But, if you can’t, grant them mercy, and kill them._ >”

* * *

_Evening, Teterboro Airport…_

“Such a shame that Peggy and Bucky aren’t here to see Howard’s reaction to seeing you alive,” Michael quipped as the two of them watched Howard’s plane land.

Steve gave his brother-in-law a mild look, before shaking his head. He had hoped that it would never come to this, but it seemed that there was a limit to God granting him his wishes.

The blueprints had been almost finalized, but at least Tony had been cooperative in incorporating built-in explosives. While there was no guarantee that Howard wouldn’t discover some parts that were wired as explosives, Tony had been deviously clever in hiding others. Steve felt better at the fact that Tony had taken the threat on Howard’s life seriously.

“They’ll be all right,” he said, looking at the wide airfield wistfully.

Peggy had specifically called Michael this time, instead of her ‘neighbor to feed her cat’. She was supposed to be on a short vacation while Michael was here – spending time seeing the sights with her brother. However, due to last night’s incident in Port Chester, that vacation had been canceled.

Peggy had not stated what was happening – other than a simple ‘I will be late coming home’ to Michael. It was Natasha who had briefly appeared, and informed both of them that an incident was brewing in New Rochelle.

Knowing what and why Natasha was sticking with the two gave Steve some comfort as much as it worried him. Steve wished that Natasha had not waited or made a seemingly dark pact with Ghost Rider to keep the fact that she was holding back the ghosts of Thanos’ army in the Soul Stone.

“I take it from the look on your face, things looked different at Teterboro in the future?” Michael conversationally asked, dragging Steve’s thoughts back to the present.

“Security for one thing,” Steve said, gesturing towards the airfield. “We wouldn’t have even been allowed to bring the car up to the tarmac. The world in the future was more fearful… less open, and less trusting.”

Michael remained silent at that, but Steve could see his eyebrows were furrowed in thought. He never asked about his brother-in-law’s work, but he could reasonably assume that MI-5 was primarily concerned with the growing rise and infiltration of Communism within the homeland.

Steve had tried to read up on what happened in the years after the end of the war. But with so many biased historical texts, it was difficult for him to grasp who was right or wrong in the era known as the ‘Cold War’. All he got from his attempt to read and formulate an unbiased opinion was that it had led to HYDRA tightening their hold on the chaos they had been creating.

“All right, looks like post-flight checks are complete,” Michael stated, as the two of them saw movement coming from the cockpit.

Michael exited the rental car first, knowing that Howard would want to see a familiar face to confirm Peggy’s call. But Steve was not content on waiting, and exited as well, coming up to the hood of the car where Michael stood. He didn’t lean against the hood as Michael had done, but decided to stand straight.

The door to Howard’s personal airplane was lowered. A few seconds later, Steve saw Jarvis appear and begin to descend. The man glanced over at them, eyes searching out for Peggy, but then stopped in the middle of the stairs as Steve saw him focus his eyes on him.

“Come on, Jarvis,” Steve heard Howard complain, as the inventor emerged from the airplane. “What’s the damn hold up?”

“Sir...” Jarvis began.

“What,” Howard began, then looked towards the same place that Jarvis was staring at. “Holy… S-Steve?” Steve heard Howard stutter.

“Hello, old friend,” Steve answered.

~*~*~*~


	8. Memory Extraction Session:  возвращение на родину + один + многочисленный

**Memory Extraction Session: возвращение на родину + один + многочисленный**

_Time…_

_He always lost track of time whenever it was like this. Whenever he bit down on his lip to keep from crying out in pain. As the shoe, the foot within the shoe, and the force behind the kick stabbed into him. Into his gut, into his back, into his leg, into his arms, but never into his head to end it._

_Time…_

_He wished it would stop._

_But he would never take back his words. No matter how furious it made his father. No matter how many cruel names his father viciously spat at him. No matter how many times his father kicked, punched, and hauled him up like a sack of grain – only to slam him into the floor, bloody and bruised. He would never take back his words._

_He loved—_

Bucky gasped. His eyes snapped open, only for his vision to be washed in harsh light. The sounds of his breath were scraping against his ear, his heart beating unevenly in his chest—

“So kind of Dr. Ivchenko to let you sleep, just this once.”

The cold, chilling voice of Zola near him on his left caused Bucky to turn his head slightly. He couldn’t feel a thing, could barely move, but from where he was, his world looked oddly horizontal. He was no longer strapped to the infernal chair, and was now lying on a metal slab or something. The scientist was standing next to the globe, seemingly watching the memories floating by with disinterest.

Bucky knew those memories being projected on the globe. He clearly remembered the date: November 5th, 1944, and where the memories came from: SSR Headquarters. It was a date that he would never forget—

… возвращение на родину…

_If he closed his eyes and muffled his ears enough, Bucky could sometimes imagine that he was home, and that the noise was from his sisters chatting gaily about their day. Sometimes Mother would join in as well, but most of the time, she would be at the stove, cooking up a scrumptious meal._

_However, that moment would never last more than a few seconds as the sounds of the SSR Headquarters always sent him back to reality. It was in those times, where the murmurs and noises of people walking everywhere, things getting fixed or created, the ringing of telephones, or even the crunching noise of the Enigma machine being decoded, made him open his eyes to see his brief reverie dissolve away._

_Bucky missed his mother and sisters, missed New York in general, but he never missed **home**._

_At this very moment though, he was sitting in the corner of what most of the NCOs had nicknamed 'the cage', cleaning not only his sniper rifle, but other rifles. Most of the personnel didn't want to spend their days off cleaning the weapons._

_A rota had been drawn up to do so, but he liked doing such a task. Of course there were plenty of other things he could have been engaging in on his days off, but Bucky liked it here._

_Not only was it quiet, it afforded him a lot of luxury in listening into idle conversations. More than once, he had picked up on rumors, on observations of interaction between personnel, and best of all, sitting in 'the cage' gave him a wide view of the main room._

_One of the best kept secrets of 'the cage' was it also gave him a view of the halls that led down to the laboratories where Howard and his team were always creating new gadgets. Most people didn't use the hall, since bothering the team usually resulted in one or more of the engineers complaining to the brass about unnecessary distractions. Thus the halls was sometimes used by personnel who wanted just a brief moment of privacy to engage in some moments of affection._

_Bucky was sure he wasn't the only one who watched those using the hall as a semi-private place – some of the people were more openly affectionate and passionate than others – but at the moment, there was no one in the halls. Jones sometimes joined him in the cleaning of the rifles and pistols, but tonight, most of the personnel were above._

_It was apparently Guy Fawkes Night, and most of the British were off celebrating it by drinking instead of lighting bonfires. They had also dragged most of their American and French allies into the festivities._

_A few level-headed ones remained though. Someone had to keep working, since there was still the primary HYDRA base and a few smaller ones that recently cropped up that they needed to destroy._

_Dr. Zola still had not been captured yet, and no one knew where he was. Schmidt was also on the loose, though Bucky had heard some rumors of Schmidt being sighted somewhere in the Alps._

_That had not been confirmed yet, and with winter settling in soon, going anywhere near the Alps at the moment was going to be incredibly tricky, even for the Howling Commandos. They ate impossible for breakfast, but he knew that they were not invincible. Sooner or later, their luck was going to run out._

_Shaking his head slightly, Bucky tried to brush the thoughts away as placed the barrel of the disassembled pistol down and picked up another one and began to clean it. He heard the footsteps and murmurs of voices coming down the halls of the laboratories and smiled to himself._

_He had seen both Steve and Peggy go down the halls about an hour earlier, and it seemed that neither had seen him sitting in 'the cage'. Clearly the two had business to discuss with Howard, but it seemed that that business was done, judging by how slow their footsteps were on the floor. They definitely were taking their time returning to the main area._

_Peeking up from his cleaning, Bucky didn't see Steve or Peggy, but he did hear Peggy softly murmur, “Not here, Steve. It's a little too open.”_

“ _There's no one here, Peggy,” he heard Steve softly answer._

_Bucky had to bite on his knuckles to keep from openly laughing. How Steve missed seeing him in 'the cage' when he and Peggy had descended from above ground to the bunker proper was hilariously amazing. He hadn't even situated himself deep within 'the cage', buried proverbially up to his shoulders in firearms and cleaning materials._

_There was a sigh before he heard Peggy say, “Sometimes, you really don't pay attention to your surroundings, do you Steve. Isn't that right, Sergeant Barnes?”_

_Bucky laughed, this time not bothering to contain himself as Peggy had stated that last question a little louder, and clearly directed at him. Footsteps echoed down the hall and a moment later, he saw Steve emerge, looking a little affronted._

“ _How long have you been sitting there?” Steve asked._

_Bucky shrugged and merely gestured towards the open saying, “Best view of the house.”_

_Peggy emerged, shaking her head slightly in exasperation, saying, “Only for a voyeur like you, Sergeant.”_

_It was interesting to see Steve's face turn a few shades of red in embarrassment before an indignant expression finally ended it. Bucky couldn't help but widely smile in return, just as Peggy asked, “I'm surprised though, that you're not upstairs, drinking with the others. It would be much more productive to collect rumors and the like from looser tongues.”_

“ _Wanted some peace and quiet,” he answered, amused at Steve's ever-changing reaction._

_Not that he minded that Peggy was spilling some of the well-kept secrets he had done while at headquarters; she was the only person he spoke to with regards to the many rumors he heard. She was more entrenched and in the know of the 'politics' behind the SSR, and thus would know what to do with the information he picked up._

_It was only fair that Steve now knew a little what he did when not engaged in any other tasks at headquarters. It also alleviated the possibility of Steve's worry (and potential rumor that had started only very recently) that he, Bucky, was charming away his best friend's girl._

“ _Care to join us, Sergeant Barnes?” Peggy unexpectedly asked after a moment._

“ _Drinking?” he asked, holding his tongue on the other thought that had immediately sprung into his thoughts with regards to the question. Steve had been teased enough for tonight, and Bucky didn't have the heart to tease him any further, especially not when Peggy was present._

“ _Not quite,” she answered, walking over to an empty desk and took several sheets of blank paper and three fountain pens. “A tradition that my family used to do during the fifth. A bonfire variety, but doable with a simple campfire.”_

_Intrigued, Bucky set the barrel he had been cleaning down and said, “All right. Give me a few minutes to put the rest of these away.”_

_Wiping his hands down on another cloth as best as possible, he placed the rifles that had been cleaned on one side of the racks, and the others that had not been cleaned yet on the other. For the pistol he had been cleaning, he set that to the side, and neatly folded the cloths before stacking them and the other cleaning materials to one side of the table._

_Emerging from 'the cage', he locked the door behind him. Peggy took the lead in making their way up the stairs, but as Bucky followed the two, he couldn't help but smile to himself. Home might have been in Brooklyn, but he knew that for him, home was wherever Steve was...and when Peggy would finally marry Steve, where those two were._

_They were his reason to come home, no matter what happened._

… возвращение на родину…

_* * *_

… один _…_

“ _... at least she's safer in the countryside than in any of the cities. That's all I can ask for,” Peggy finished saying, drawing up her knees and wrapped her arms around them for a moment._

_Silence fell among the three of them, punctured only by the pop and crackling sound of the wood burning in campfire before Steve spoke up, saying, “I don't have any brothers or sisters. My father died from mustard gas poisoning. I never knew him, even though Mother had a picture of him. She didn't talk about him a lot, but I had seen her cry over the picture many times. She was a nurse, worked in the TB ward. Passed away a few years ago after contracting it.”_

“ _And you, Sergeant Barnes?” Peggy asked after a few moments, uncurling herself to sit properly again._

“ _Three sisters,” he began, “Rebecca, Samantha, and Agnes, all working as seamstresses in the factories, though last I heard, Agnes picked up work as a riveter. Father killed himself in after running afoul of the Atlantic City mob when I was ten. Had to take over and help Mother make ends meet since I was the oldest and the man of the household. Had to take care of this punk—” he affectionately jerked his thumb at Steve “—as well. He wouldn't stop getting into fights.”_

_There was an amused look on Peggy's face as Steve protested with a, “Hey!”_

“ _So family histories aside,” Bucky said after a moment, “you're surely not asking us to write confessionals and throw them in the fire, are you, Agent Carter?”_

_He could have easily called her 'Peggy' as the other Howling Commandos did whenever she was among them and not among the brass. However, it was a long-standing agreement-disagreement of sorts between him and Steve's girl to just refer to each other by rank and surname._

_It made it formally entertaining. Yet, most of all, Bucky found himself greatly amused by the guessing game that had sprung up with the others in the group as to why he and Peggy called each other by formal names._

_Most thought neither could tolerate each other, and both he and Peggy had agreed to let that rumor grow – to see how it shaped other rumors running around camp, and to give him the best cover to report rumors to her. Of course, Steve had figured out part of the name addressing formality. It was due to him, Bucky, being completely ignored that first time Peggy had stepped into that bar in her gorgeously stunning red dress._

“ _I am,” she answered, distributing the papers and pens to both him and Steve. “But it's more writing the one thing you regret and tossing it into the fire. It started with my great-grandfather when he was a young naval officer fighting in the Napoleonic War. His shipmates started that tradition on their ship in the hopes of going into battle with no regrets. It carried over to the Fifth of November, since it was easier to toss a piece of paper during a bonfire in public than in private and potentially have a family member read the scrap before it completely burned away.”_

“ _One regret?” Bucky asked, his pen poised over the paper. “I have a few.”_

“ _One regret,” Peggy answered, giving him a solemn look. “From your heart. You write it, burn it, and leave it to ashes. That regret should haunt you no longer after it's completely burnt.”_

“ _Do we have to say what it is?” Steve asked, his tone a little melancholic._

“ _No,” she answered, shaking her head slightly. “I'll admit, this has been helping me cope, and I hope that it will help both of you as well.”_

_Bucky saw Steve start, before seeing Peggy reach out and grasp Steve's hand, squeezing it in reassurance. “Peggy,” Bucky spoke up before Steve could say a word. “Thank you.”_

_He returned his attention to the paper sitting on his lap as he thought about what to write. Even though he had stated that he had a few regrets in a joking tone, it was true. There were so many things he regretted not doing or had done up until now._

_However, as he glanced up for a moment, looking at both Steve and Peggy, lit up by the firelight that sat in front of them, he couldn't help the brief smile that appeared on his face. Focusing back on the paper, he wrote down his one regret that he knew was finally time to let go of._

_Folding the paper into quarters, Bucky blew out a noisy sigh and readjusted himself on the chair as he leaned forward, sitting slightly hunched over. Soon after, the two were done with whatever they had written as well._

“ _Any formality to this?” he asked._

“ _No,” Peggy answered, reaching forward and stuffing her folded paper into the bottom of the fire where it was the hottest. She took a stick lying on the side and poke it in some more before handing the stick to Steve._

_Steve did the same and after he was done and handed the stick to Bucky. Bucky leaned forward and poked his folded paper into his section of the fire. Seeing that paper curl and burn felt oddly satisfying, and he had to give credit where it was due._

_Peggy was right – he felt a lot lighter, a lot more relieved that he had finally written down that one regret that had haunted him, and watched it turn into ashes and dust. It would no longer hang over him, because he should have made his peace long ago; long before Margaret 'Peggy' Carter stepped into his best friend's life._

_The three of them sat in silence for a while, seemingly content on watching the fire burn. It was only when the scuffling of feet on the ground that they all looked up to see that one of Howard's assistants was approaching._

“ _Captain Rogers?” the assistant questioned. “Mr. Stark is looking for you.”_

“ _That was fast,” Steve said, looking a little regretful that he was leaving the peaceful atmosphere that had settled around them, as he stood up._

“ _We'll still be here, Steve,” Bucky grinned, knowing that despite whatever Howard had finished for Steve, Steve wanted to stay here and enjoy the company. “Just bring something strong back after Howard's through with you.”_

“ _Not that strong, please, Steve,” Peggy chimed in, before giving Bucky a withering glare that didn't fully reach her eyes. “Some of us still have work to do in the morning.”_

“ _All right,” Steve answered, smiling, and nodded towards the assistant to lead the way._

_It was only well after Steve and the assistant had disappeared that Peggy shifted over to sit in the spot that Steve had vacated. Bucky didn't mind, but neither did he move to open the space between them._

_Over the crackling and popping noise of the fire, Bucky heard her ask, “You wrote it down, didn't you?”_

_He glanced over at her, before focusing back on the fire, weaving his hands together and rested his arms on his knees. “Yeah,” he answered. “I did.”_

_The silence that fell between them was long, but it was not uncomfortable. It was broken after a few minutes as she asked, “Why didn't you ever tell him?”_

“ _What difference would it have made?” he countered, glancing over at her. “You've seen him before the serum transformed him. You know what he was like. That punk had a single-minded goal, and nothing was going to change that.”_

_He returned his gaze to the fire. “I tried to, Peggy. I honestly tried to, but I couldn't do that to Steve.”_

_He fell silent, looking down at the ground before looking back up and over to her, saying, “I don't have to regret anymore. You're the best thing that's happen to him – even better than that serum. You're his light, but I'll always be his shadow... be both of your shadows. It's where I live, where I work, and where I'll protect both of you.”_

“ _In another life, you would have made a wonderful agent, Bucky,” she softly stated, reaching out and grasping his left hand with her right for a moment. “But here, you are a wonderful friend, and I'm glad to have come to know you. Thank you.”_

_She let go and leaned slightly away, staring at the fire. Bucky could feel the sad smile tug up at the corners of his lips as he too returned his gaze to the fire. He had never stated his regret to Peggy, never said or indicated anything with regards to what she had figured out._

_It was, as he had determined long ago, that Peggy Carter was one extremely intelligent and astute woman. Time would only tell what the future held for her, even after she married Steve, but he had a feeling that she was going to be a force to reckon with._

_So he said, “Thank you, Peggy, for keeping my one regret, secret.”_

… один…

_* * *_

… многочисленный _…_

“ _Howard must be having a grand old time, if he’s kept Steve down there for as long as it has been. Usually, it would have been a quick ten or fifteen minute discussion_ _, and an ‘off you go’ from Howard, while shooing Steve away.”_

_Bucky glanced over to see that Peggy had crossed her legs, one over another, folding and weaving her fingers together while resting her elbows on her knees. There was a light smile on her lips, with the firelight casting all sorts of interesting shadows across her face. It had been at least a half-hour since Steve had been summoned away by one of Howard’s assistants._

“ _You getting cold, Peggy?” he asked. “We could head back down and wait there.”_

“ _No, no,” she answered, shaking her head slightly. “Just wistfully wondering what new gadget or device Howard’s cooked up this time for Steve to try out in the field. He didn’t say much to either of us when he requested our opinions and some information earlier in the day.”_

_If it were any other woman wondering the same thing, Bucky would have answered with a lighthearted quip about some new gadget that would help them in the field, or even jokingly state that it could possibly explode even before it even got to the field testing phase, but he didn’t._

_Peggy was not that kind of woman that he would ever speak that way to. She was Steve’s girl, and incredibly intelligent to see past bluster and false reassurances. She had proven that time and again, most recently just less than a half hour ago, by correctly guessing – unstated as well – what he had written on that piece of paper that he had burned in the fire._

_Instead, he asked, “So what are you plans for after the war?”_

“ _It’s a little early to speculate on that, isn’t it, Sergeant?” she asked, giving him a mild look with one eyebrow raised._

“ _It’s never to early to have things to look forward to,” he answered. “This—” he gestured to everything around them “—is eventually going to all end.”_

“ _Yes,” she agreed, but the lightness in her eyes was gone as she leaned forward slightly, asking, “What is your real question, Bucky? You know me, you know my work, and you know that I’m not going to give up my duties to the SSR even after the war ends. The threats to this world will not end with Johann Schmidt’s capture.”_

“ _Not even if Steve asks you to?” he carefully questioned._

“ _We already had that discussion,” she stated, pressing her lips firmly together in slight anger._

“ _Good,” he said, nodding in approval._

_A sense of relief also swept through him, as he knew that were it any other man, they would not have as open of a mind as Steve to allow their best girl – or even wife – to continue to participate in such a dangerous line of work. Bucky knew that he had had initial reservations about the competency of Peggy, but his previous assumptions about her had been quickly and succinctly proven wrong._

_Peggy Carter was Steve’s equal in every way, super-soldier serum aside. Bucky could see that she was not going to let her own career stall in whatever advancement Steve would get after the war._

“ _I know how everyone else sees me, Bucky,” she said. “Even you had done so before.”_

“ _I know,” he answered, nodding in agreement, “and I’ll say it again: I’m sorry.”_

_In a slight effort to steer the conversation back to a more lighthearted discussion so that if Steve came back, he would not be stumbling into a tension-filled atmosphere between the two of them, Bucky said, “It was one of the many regrets that I had, that I wanted to write down and burn.”_

“ _You’re only allowed one per year,” she pointed out._

_He sighed, shaking his head as he couldn’t help the wistful smile quirking up his lips. “I guess I’ll save that for next year’s burning. Underestimating you, and all of the stupid assumptions that came with it.”_

“ _And I’ll save mine about you for next year as well,” she answered, the light smile back on her lips. “Pig-headed womanizer with little to no grasp of the obviousness of the situation.”_

_At that, Bucky could help but laugh, even though it did sting ever so slightly that she had initially thought that about him. “You wound me, Pegs,” he said, chuckling._

“ _I have many more where that came from,” she stated, shaking her head slightly as the light smile on her lips bloomed into a full one. “I did grow up with a brother, after all, and he taught it all to me.”_

_It was the distant, “Hey!” of Steve calling out to them that caused both him and Peggy to not launch into a brief, but most likely bound to be amusing, insult-lobbying war of words._

_Bucky turned slightly from where he was sitting, and at the same time, Peggy did as well. He saw Steve approaching, with a bottle and three squat glasses in his hands. Bucky moved over to open up the space between both him and Peggy, so that Steve could sit between them._

“ _Sorry for making both of you wait that long,” Steve apologized as soon as he got close, taking a seat in the space between them and handing out the glasses._

“ _Don’t worry about it, Steve,” Bucky said, as Steve poured a generous amount of liquid into each glass, before setting the bottle down. “We were just discussing what we’d do after the war’s over.”_

“ _Oh?” Steve said, swinging his head back and forth between the two of them, giving both of them a slightly quizzical look._

“ _Well, Sergeant Barnes here, says that he wants to become a mime, when he gets out of the Army,” Peggy spoke up, her tone and facial expression completely without humor._

“ _And Agent Carter says that she wants to tour with a vaudeville company, try some exotic belly dancing… you know, that sort of risque stuff,” Bucky countered._

_He tried, but he couldn’t keep his expression as straight-laced as Peggy had, and openly grinned. He saw Peggy flush a little redder than what the firelight was casting on her skin._

_Steve groaned, shaking his head slightly as he said, “The two of you are terrible.”_

“ _And don’t you know it,” Bucky stated, laughing as he slapped Steve on the shoulder. “So what are we drinking to?”_

“ _The future?” Peggy said after regaining her composure._

“ _The future, but without those ridiculous things both of you just mentioned,” Steve stated._

“ _The future,” Bucky agreed._

… многочисленный _…_

“These memories,” Zola began, taking a step back from the globe.

The scientist turned towards him with an unkind smile alighted upon his face. Despite himself, Bucky squirmed, trying to get away as Zola approached. He did not want to be poked, prodded, or _touched_ with those filthy hands of the madman again. But his body would not respond to his need to move – to escape.

“Ivchenko said that they are complete in the wrapping and embedding. Two command memories, and one stop memory. Yet they are whole,” Zola continued to say, leaning slightly over him.

The doctor observed him as if he were an insect, and though Bucky wanted to squeeze his eyes shut, he didn’t. If his body wouldn’t obey, if he couldn’t scream or shout, then he would pour every ounce of hatred and fury into glaring at Zola.

“You,” Zola said, eyes flickering towards his own with some disinterest before focusing somewhere else upon him. “Are a most curious of a subject-specimen, Sergeant Barnes. Your love and adoration for Captain Steven Rogers is unnatural, immoral, and never reciprocated or acknowledged. Yet, you blindly followed him, as if a lost dog with no where else to go. Why? What do you gain?”

Those hated, dead and dull eyes of Zola focused back on his own, but Bucky continued to glare. “It is intriguing,” the doctor continued to say, picking at something that sat on Bucky’s chest, “these memories you have, that my colleague has extracted and used. I do not appreciate another shaping my own work, but I have to acknowledge that it has to be done this way.”

“It will grow, Sergeant,” Zola stated, giving him another unkind smile. “The seedling of a new HYDRA reborn. The beautiful parasite that you will help birth with your own two hands, when we are done.”

Zola moved back towards his head, and crouched down, whispering in a sinister tone, “But first, I want to know, what you burned that night, Sergeant Barnes. What did you throw into that fire?”

“Show me… один,” Zola commanded—

… _he felt a lot lighter… and watched it turn into ashes and dust…_

… _he should have made his peace long ago…_

Bucky gasped again as the knives skittered across his head, tearing and ripping everything apart. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to escape into another memory—

_He laid on the ground for a few seconds longer after the door had slammed closed, listening to the footsteps of his father stomping away, fade. It was only after he could not hear those footsteps anymore that he tried to get up—_

“ _Bucky—” the fearful, frightened voice of Becca shattered the silence._

“ _Go back to your room, Rebecca,” the sharp voice of their mother cut in._

“ _But—“_

“ _Back to your room, now!”_

_Bucky heard soft footsteps reluctantly hurry away, and the door to his sisters’ room close. Heavier footsteps than Becca’s approached, stopping before him. Yet, his mother did not help him up, and stood there waiting._

_She had neither hindered nor helped defend him while his father was beating him. All Bucky knew was that she had been sitting with his sisters, as their father rained hellfire, punishment, and pain down upon him._

“ _< Get up.>” she commanded in Russian, startling him._

_It was not harsh, but it was not stated kindly either. Bucky blinked and blearily looked up, trying to get rid of the fuzziness in his eyes. She still had not moved, but he could tell that she was not going to repeat her command._

_He wanted to disobey her, to let her do what his father had done to him for saying those words that had caused all of this in the first place. But the longer Bucky laid there, letting the agonizing pain that wracked his body settle, the longer she just stood there. She was not moving, she was not helping, but she was not hitting him—_

_Bucky slowly, painfully pushed himself up. The floor around him was a mess of slippery blood and spittle. He could not find the strength to stand, and sat, head hanging down. His legs were curled slightly underneath him – it was all that he could move without crying out in pain. Blood dribbled down his nose and lips; he had bit the inside of his cheek—_

“ _< You will never say those words to your father ever again, James.>” his mother stated._

“ _< I **will** declare it to the world—>” he shot back, anger over taking him again._

_She roughly grabbed his chin, sending a jolt of pain lancing through him, silencing him. Forced to stare at her, Bucky dared not close his eyes in fear – and continued to project defiance through his eyes. He didn’t care if his mother decided to beat him, just like his father._

_He loved—_

“ _< You will never say those words to your father ever again, James.>” she repeated harshly. “<You will hide that from him, and everyone else in the world. It will be your secret to carry to your grave, because if you don’t, you **will** be killed.>”_

_S_ _he let go of his chin, but did not stand back up. Before Bucky could recover from the pain and retort, a much gentler, strangely kind and almost sympathetic countenance seemed to overtake her._ _“ <The world is a _ _dangerous_ _and cruel place for those who do not believe in boundaries_ _when in_ _love._ _Let it define you, my son, but do not let it consume you. >”_

A deliberate cough caused Bucky to open his eyes again. The cruel, but life-learning lesson memory faded from his mind. Zola had moved away from him and was standing next to the globe—

Bucky tried to cry out, as he saw the image of his mother, his sisters, even his father projected onto the globe. He thought he had contained the memory—

“The mother: Winifred Barnes,” Ivchenko stated, drawing Bucky’s gaze towards what little he could see of the far side of the chamber. “That is her alias though. She is of the motherland, of the fallen Imperial family. Vera Fyodorovna Romanova. She was the first that we trained, and she is the first that defected.”

“The first? Not the only? You believe that there will be more?” Zola asked.

“Yes. These women we condition, are delicate not in the mind, but in the matter that we need them to be. They must have the flexibility to engage in their missions for the motherland. A few will attempt to defect, but they will not survive long enough to do so.”

“I… see…”

“We had thought we lost Lady Vera to the chaos of the revolution, until recently,” Ivchenko continued. “Until my esteemed colleague, Colonel Rostov, encountered Sergeant Barnes and the SSR during the Estonia campaign in the war. A slip of an accent from Barnes’ Russian, was all it took, to discover that Lady Vera was still alive.”

“If she is the first trained and defected, then why did your people, your government not send people to kill her? Surely the sleeping viper must be killed before it is awakened.”

“On the contrary, Dr. Zola, she is **the** Black Widow,” Ivchenko stated. “The first and the best. Not even the women we are training now, can compare to her. We have sated her attention by feeding our agents through her daughters: Rebecca Barnes Proctor, Samantha Barnes, and Agnes Barnes. She thinks her son is dead. She will do anything to protect what is left of her freedom and family, so long as pressure and engagement is placed upon her in America.”

“And what of the father?”

“A counter-intelligence agent of some renown within his motherland, England, during in the Great War,” Ivchenko said. “We need not worry about him. He died at the indirect hands of our Winter Soldier here.”

Silence answered Ivchenko’s statement. It was broken a few moments later, when Ivchenko said, “Was it not obvious to you, Zola, as to what was burned in that memory you examined? The Winter Soldier killed his father via proxy when he was a mere child. He is truly a child of a Black Widow, never mind **the** Black Widow. It is in his very nature to kill anyone who threatens the one he loves.”

Ivchenko’s footsteps echoed throughout the room. “You may think sentiment is a chemical defect, that love is silly and a fairy tale. That what this man feels for another man is unnatural. It is not. It is the most powerful and potent emotion that I can draw out of my subjects. It is why using Captain Steven Rogers, and wrapping each and every command within those memories is vital to the creation of the Winter Soldier.”

The scientist stopped next to Bucky, filling his vision with white lab coat. Moments later, the face of Ivchenko filled his eyes as the scientist crouched down and stared at him. Glaring at the scientist did nothing, as a moment later, Ivchenko stood back up.

“Rip away those memories, leave the skills behind, and you will have someone stronger than the seductress Black Widows,” Ivchenko stated. “You will have a soldier – the perfect soldier – to help bring about the New World Order.”

Bucky tried to pull at the bonds that held him down, straining with all of his might. But his body continued to not obey or move. He gritted his teeth. Despair filled him, but the tears still wouldn’t come.

“One more, Zola. One more command, and my work, my shaping of the Winter Soldier will be complete.”

~*~*~*~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What Bucky burned on the 5th of November in 1944 was his regret for indirectly killing his father to save Steve and Steve’s mother. He was ten, when his father died. His father had had enough of Bucky’s defiance, and sought to get rid of the influence that was causing Bucky to behave that way – which meant getting rid of Steve (and Steve’s mother to spare her the grief).
> 
> Bucky’s father lied to his family, saying that there was a raid that was going to happen that day (he was a federal agent), and took all of his guns and ammunition with him. Bucky realized what his father was going to do, and secretly tipped off the New Jersey mob, informing them of his father’s patrol routes. The mob killed his father.
> 
> Bucky told no one about what he had done. He lived with that guilt, until he wrote it down on the 5th and burned it.


	9. Aftershock

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Theme: '[Aftershock](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x7nunqeHmKQ)' by Ninja Tracks

**Chapter 5: Aftershock**

“God,” Howard breathed again, as Steve felt him clap his arms and stared at him. “I may need to start going to church again… Miracles of miracles…”

Steve couldn’t help the small but sad smile that quirked up the edges of his lips. A small part of him knew it was not appropriate to smile, or laugh at the Lord’s name stated in vain or in jest. But Howard’s reaction from the airport, within the car, and now at the house made him wish that he could’ve found his actual body here in this point in time.

Of course, as soon as the shock had begun to wear off, Howard had demanded to know when, where, and how he survived. Fortunately, that had happened while in the car. Then disappointment and anger at not being told until now about his survival had settled in. That had happened as they approached the house.

Steve was glad that the neighborhood was not full of nosy people. Michael had had a hard enough time ushering Jarvis and Howard into the house. Steve was sure that whatever neighbors were peeking out of their windows knew that Michael was staying over – and could infer that Michael was of relation to Peggy. But two additional ‘mysterious’ men entering the house, was going to draw _some_ attention.

Even then, Steve had dared not use the Mind Stone to fuzz memories. The cloy, oily feeling that slowly drifted across him the first time he had used the stone in a significant manner in 1946, was something he never wanted to feel again.

It had felt dangerously suffocating for even that brief moment of usage. He could only imagine how Clint and Dr. Selvig had felt when Loki had used it on them – and wished he hadn’t used it on himself in 2012.

But neither could he just exit the car without drawing even more attention. It had not been ideal, but the only way he had managed to get in and out of the car was via the Space Stone. However little he had used the stone, the ice-cold sensation had immediately released its grip upon him – seemingly sated.

“Howard,” Steve began, returning to the present. He took a couple of steps back from his friend and from Jarvis. “I’m not the Steve you know, from this time.”

“What?” Howard began, looking slightly flabbergasted. “But you’re here—”

“Sir,” Jarvis surprisingly interrupted, taking a step forward to plant himself between the two of them before Michael could intervene. “I believe it is best to just let Captain Rogers explain his miraculous survival.”

Howard leaned slightly over to peek out from behind Jarvis, but Steve did not step forward to close the distance. Instead, Steve tapped the inset twice to activate his armor. He saw Howard’s eyes widen, and saw him take a step back. Jarvis had also turned, and was staring as well.

As hungry as ever, the Reality Stone had felt all too willing to show the memories he had shown to Peggy, Bucky, and Michael. But he did so again – hoping that Howard would understand that these were dangerously destructive weapons. That his friend would not try to hunt for them after the set he, Steve, carried were returned.

It was enough that Howard or the SSR already had the Tesseract of this timeline within their possession. They did not need the other stones. As of this point in time, Steve knew that they didn’t have the capability to reach the others stones. The Space Race within the Cold War had not heated up in earnest yet.

“In 2011, I was found above the Arctic circle,” Steve began.

~~~

_Meanwhile, somewhere in New Rochelle…_

“Where the hell did Barnes go?”

“He’s a sniper by training, Marshall,” Peggy heard Li state. “Where do you think he went. Don’t believe everything you read in the comics – he’s definitely not going to bumble this up. The guy is genuine, bonafide Howling Commando. If he’s off doing something on his own, I’m sure there’s a really good reason for it.”

Peggy couldn’t help but share an amused look with Sousa, though Sousa looked a little surprised at the defense that Li had given. After what happened last night, along with the past couple of days of shine and shock of Bucky not being who they all thought him to be – per his comics counterpart – had died rather rapidly.

That shine and shock had been replaced by awe – something that Peggy knew Bucky hated. Peggy also knew that most of the other veteran Commandos who served with Steve during the war also hated that awe. It was one of the reasons why out of all the Commandos, only DumDum had remained to lead the new group of Howling Commandos. Falsworth, Dernier, Jones, and Morita had retired to quieter lives.

“Sounds like someone has a crush on Barnes,” Sousa jokingly whispered to her, as they continued their careful patrol around.

Another anonymous call had been placed for New Rochelle – except this time, the majority of SSR agents had responded. There were a handful who remained back at Headquarters to field other calls, but Peggy and Bucky were among those out here tonight – spread out among the town – searching for a sign of the creatures.

Police had been contacted, and they had set up a perimeter around the central location. Residents had either been evacuated, or told to remain inside. Yet, the same kind of eerie, almost dimmed ambiance that had surrounded them yesterday in Port Chester had settled not long after they had arrived.

Whatever the environment that surrounded them was, there was a single advantage – it seemed to muffle or completely silence gunfire from their pistols and rifles. Apart from the recurring lightning-quick strike of the creatures, along with the brief appearance of Dottie Underwood, no resident who lived along the main street in Port Chester had reported gunfire.

Thompson had tested the theory himself, by stepping outside what seemed like the edge of the perimeter. He had reported that everything looked brighter, but no other agent heard him. They saw him, saw his lips move, but there was no sound. When Thompson entered the perimeter, he repeated his words – and all within hearing range heard him.

There was no clear delineation between what surrounded them, and where it ended. The ‘perimeter’ was fuzzy and unclear – defined only when they could see the lights and surroundings seemingly becoming ‘brighter’. It would have only been eerier, in Peggy’s opinion, if fog as thick as she had seen it before in London, surrounded them.

At the present though, Peggy smiled slightly at Sousa’s joke. But she deflecting it, saying, “I’d hate to break it to Agent Li, but there’s a really long line for that – and I heard that it’s a possible million year wait.”

Sousa’s soft snort of laughter answered her. Focusing back onto the task at hand, Peggy couldn’t help but briefly glance up and around the darkened rooftops. Bucky was possibly somewhere up there, taking careful watch of their surroundings. Wherever her friend was, Peggy knew that his keen eyes would not miss anything.

~~~

“… _and I heard that it’s a possible million year wait.”_

Bucky couldn’t help the grin that quirked up the edges of his lips as he watched Peggy, Sousa, Li, and Marshall carefully walk down the empty street – spread out in the same formation as he had dictated Peggy and the others yesterday. They couldn’t see him, but he could see and hear them clearly.

His augmentations afforded him that clarity in hearing and sight – even if he hated them. As he continued to observe the four of them, he briefly wondered if Sousa knew that his limp was improved. The former infantryman’s limp was greatly pronounced whenever around the office, but out here, it didn’t seem as pronounced. Sousa was able to do the careful, slow patrol, clearly displaying his training from the Army.

Adjusting his grip on the standard-issued sniper rifle from the SSR’s armory, Bucky cast his gaze elsewhere. The lights up here on the rooftop of the building he was currently perched on were as dim as they were while on the ground. It was another point of information they could use – whatever surrounded them tonight and last night had height, depth, and width. Yet, there still wasn’t—

The soft scrape of footsteps approaching from behind him caused Bucky to turn. “Agent Romanova,” he greeted, glad that she chose to enter with some forewarning noise this time.

Despite the intimately and death-defying closeness he had shared with her earlier in the day, he still knew little about her. What he saw from Steve’s memories were only of her skills in combat, even though there Steve had spoken of and towards her – as they were close like siblings. But, it was clear that she was Steve’s friend, and he had the utmost respect for the courageous dead to not pry further.

“Romanov,” she answered, smiling at his confusion. “Or Romanoff, if you really want to get into the technicalities, Barnes. The Soviets gave me my alias, expecting me to romanize it when I carried out my missions in the West. Natasha Romanov.”

“Linguistics butchering,” he couldn’t help but mutter.

She laughed, a throaty and rich sound.

It was a pleasing sound in Bucky’s ears, and despite the fact that she was what she was, he found himself attracted to her. She was as captivating in physical beauty as she was in skills and intelligence. But he knew that it would never be. It still didn’t prevent him from deciding to flirt with her. There was also the need to sate the thrill of just how close he could get to her, without touching her.

“Agent Romanov,” he repeated, altering his tone ever so slightly to put the smoldering, sexual intent behind it.

He smiled as she responded gamely, walking up to him with her hips swaying this way and that until they were standing face-to-face, inches apart. “Agent Barnes,” she purred. “You sure you want to be doing this with me? I am a Black Widow in the literal sense now.”

“And I’m not married,” he answered, his smile turning into a grin. “If Steve trusts you with his life, then I’ll trust you with my own. You did, after all, save mine yesterday.”

“Touche,” she answered, relenting and taking a step back. There was no sexual intent behind the up-down, piercing gaze she gave him a moment later, as she crossed her arms across her chest.

Instead, a slightly sad look seemed to eclipse her eyes as she said, “I’m glad Steve did what he did – creating a new timeline for himself and you, in particular.”

“Not Peggy as well?” he asked, slightly puzzled, as he took a quick glance around. There was still nothing out of the ordinary.

“I didn’t know her,” Natasha said. “Steve kept that part of his life private, even from me. I only found out about her later through other circumstances. But yeah… Steve did right by you, and Agent Carter. I’m glad.”

“Was I so different, or our circumstances so different?” he asked, curious.

“It’s the past – at least mine and Steve’s past. It’s not your future, Barnes. Don’t worry about it.”

As much as Bucky wanted to reconfirm that Natasha didn’t want to be rescued from living in the Soviet Union, he didn’t. Whatever reasons that laid between that unstated promise between Steve and Natasha when it was briefly discussed earlier in the morning, he, Bucky, would not intervene.

“The other agents didn’t hear, or see you yesterday,” he said instead, returning his full attention to what he and the other SSR agents were here for.

“Shadow-like creatures,” she said, as she stepped up next to him and leaned over the rooftop slightly. The cold breeze carried her flame-red hair briefly up, while the belts around her uniform jangled slightly. “With what I am, it’s easy to pop in and out.”

She glanced over at him, a curious look in her eyes, saying, “But you reacted as if it were a natural instinct. As if you’re used to fighting with a Widow by your side.”

Bucky remained silent. It was clear from the discussion over breakfast that the Black Widows were kept away from a lot of knowledge. Natasha’s comment about the successor Widow killing the defector Widow was unsurprising to him, but it did tell him that she knew little to nothing about previous Widows.

The only previous one other than her predecessor – whomever that previous Widow was – that Natasha knew about, was Dottie Underwood. Even then, Natasha’s reluctance and caution in telling the information told Bucky that there had been some extraordinary circumstances for her to find out that information.

“A guy’s gotta have his secrets,” he stated, deciding to throw a variant of her flirtatious words from the archives room, back at her.

“You’re infuriating,” she answered, shaking her head slightly in amusement.

“Good,” he said, nodding once, before movement to his left and down the alleyway caught his attention. “Because I’m hopefully going to infuriate another Widow into telling me what she’s doing.”

“Work your charm, Barnes,” Natasha stated. “I’ll protect Agent Carter and the others.”

As the sound of gunfire began to be unleashed in earnest, Bucky swung his sniper rifle across his back, and jumped down. He landed heavily on the ground, but not too heavily to break bones.

The Soviet operative code-named Dottie Underwood immediately spun from her careful approach towards the main road where the other SSR agents were fighting. Just as fast, Bucky instinctively brought up his left arm, just as she slashed down with the unusual-looking sword in her hands.

_Bong!_

The dull crashing sound of metal-on-metal didn’t ring as Bucky had expected it to. It was the sound of cloth tearing that made a louder noise than their clash. His eyes widened in slight surprise, mirroring the look on Underwood’s face as he stared at the sword that was blocked by his arm.

Vibranium.

Both his arm _and_ Underwood’s sword were made of vibranium – the rarest metal on Earth. Howard Stark had claimed that the country of Wakanda had given to him the only ore they had. That ore had been smelted into Steve’s shield – now lost to the cold depths of the Arctic Ocean.

There was supposedly no more raw vibranium in the world. From what he knew, the scraps that Stark had ended up with after making Steve’s shield had been mixed into whatever the inventor had been making at the same time the shield was made. Where had his arm come from, and how did Underwood get a sword made of vibranium?

“You’re the one _he_ called the Winter Soldier,” she whispered in surprise, eyes focused on the large tear within his coat and shirt that showed his metal arm. “Carving your way through Сибирь, hunting all of them down—”

“Who?” Bucky demanded.

“I don’t have time to deal with you,” Underwood stated, an opaqueness over taking her eyes.

Before she could scrape her sword down across his arm, tearing further into his coat sleeve, Bucky twisted his arm and wrapped his gloved metal fingers around the sword. “What the hell do you want?” he hissed, holding the sword in place as she pulled, biting the edge into his glove.

“Let go,” she growled.

“No,” he answered, planting himself where he was.

She was strong – stronger than he anticipated for a Black Widow. Even after all that he had read about what happened to the women in the program, this was the first time he truly faced against one.

“I have to protect Peggy. She shouldn’t have involved herself—” she insisted, continuing to pull at the sword.

“Why?” he asked, watching her carefully. Her behavior was odd for what he knew about the Black Widows. Whereas he knew that his mother and others trained through the program would have left the sword alone and just outright attacked, Underwood was still clinging onto the sword.

“They’re after me,” Underwood stated. “The SSR is only in their way, and I can’t let them kill Peggy. I owe her for sparing me. And my sisters won’t stop until I’m dead.”

“So let us help you,” he insisted. “Let the SSR help you—”

Underwood abruptly let go, taking a couple of steps back with a desperate look in her eyes. “Naivete does not become you, Winter Soldier. It’s too late for me.”

She abruptly turned and ran down the alleyway – straight into the chaos on the streets. Bucky tore after her, flipping the sword so that the handle was in his left hand. Bursting out, Bucky swung the sword at the nearest creature. It exploded in a small puff of dust, startling him.

For a split second, Bucky stared at the sword before catching a glimpse of Peggy within the firefight – she looked to be nearly out of bullets. Further ahead was Underwood, and she was slipping through the knots, nimbly dodging gunfire and attacking creatures. He didn’t have time to chop his way through—

“Carter!” he shouted, catching her attention for a brief moment. A flash of red-hair behind Peggy told him that Natasha was protecting her. “Catch!” he shouted, tossing the unusual sword at her.

As soon as she caught it and swung it at the creature nearest to her, Bucky was already weaving his way through. The report of his sniper rifle going off in close quarters to punch through the creatures was loud.

Yet, just as he reached the other side of the street, Bucky skidded to halt – Dottie Underwood was no where to be seen anymore. Just like the yesterday, she had slipped away, sight unseen. And furthermore, Bucky could hear the sounds of the firefight dying just as quickly – and normalcy returning to the streets of New Rochelle.

“What the hell is that, Carter?” Bucky heard Agent Marshall ask.

He turned to see the agents beginning to stand down; holstering their guns, or placing their rifles in a more relaxed position. Bucky slung his sniper rifle back over his shoulder, and approached the small crowd forming around Peggy. She was examining the strange sword.

“Whatever the hell it is, it dusted the creatures with one swing,” Sousa exclaimed.

“Bucky?” Peggy asked, as a few of the agents parted to let him through.

“Underwood had it on her,” he answered. “Couldn’t capture her though.”

“You did your best—” Sousa began. Bucky saw Sousa’s eyes stray to the tears on the sleeve of his clothing. “Shit, we need to get you to a doctor—”

“No need,” Bucky said, mentally bracing himself as he raised his left arm and removed the glove. Gleaming silver metal fingers danced across his eyes, before Bucky then tore away what he could of the ragged ends of his ruined sleeve. Everything just a little above the elbow was removed.

“I’m fine,” Bucky bluntly stated. He glanced back up at Sousa, daring the SSR agent to say another word, or make a pitying remark about his arm.

Bucky hated the arm – hated the looks that went with it, whenever someone who didn’t know him saw him with it. He knew of the struggle that a lot of wounded soldiers who lost limbs during the war, to find and hold down jobs. He knew he had been one of the very few lucky ones to have been given a limb that was shaped to look normal. Most, if not every other wounded soldier he knew, did not have a functional false limb.

The arm came with questions, and Bucky never wanted to answer those questions. The only person he had talked to about how the arm came to be was his commander. Even then, Philips only knew a sliver of what haunted Bucky’s dreams and memories. Zola had grafted the arm to him – that was all he had told Philips – and all that he would say about it.

It was why he gloved his hand, wore long sleeved shirts every day of the year. He only uncovered the arm when engaged in more private, intimate matters. Even then, it was still difficult for him to swallow and cope with what Zola had done to him – physically violating him, again.

“Good to know,” Peggy stated before anyone else could remark on the arm.

“Let’s get a perimeter set, the area cordoned off and swept for potential stragglers,” she continued, briefly using the sword as a pointer. “Li and Marshall, get this sword back to HQ as fast as you can. Peters, head to the police station and let them know that the worst of it has passed. Daniel, inform the Chief of what happened here. Barnes, rooftops – report in twenty. The rest of you, with me. We’re setting the perimeter.”

It was slightly remarkable what a little bit of authority behind a voice, and the brusqueness of the situation could do. Grateful for Peggy’s intervention, Bucky curtly nodded and turned to leave the crowd. It took slightly longer than he liked, but as soon as the others saw him accept and obey Peggy’s orders, they followed suit.

The creatures had not killed any civilians, but neither had they killed an agent. This was the fifth time the SSR had been engaged. As he thought back to Dottie Underwood’s words, Bucky couldn’t help but wonder if this was all a distraction for something more sinister from the Soviets.

~~~

“Then where _**is**_ your body?”

Of all the questions or exclamations that could have emerged from Howard’s lips as soon as Steve was finished, Steve had not expected that. As his armor bled back into the wristband, he said, “I spent two years looking, searching through the wreckage. Diving into the cold waters when I could. Nothing.”

“So now, he’s summoned up the balls to stay.”

Steve supposed that there could have been far worse ways that Tony decided to make his entrance as a resident of the Soul Stone. Casually standing behind Howard and Jarvis, just out of arms’ reach was mildly tame – considering what Steve remembered of the showboating entrances Tony loved to do.

“Who the hell are you?!” Howard exclaimed as both he and Jarvis took a half-step back from where they were. “Wait… you look like me… like the memory that Steve showed—you’re that Tony fellow. Called himself ‘Iron Man’.”

“Anthony Stark,” Tony stated without any other flourishes. “I was your son in that other timeline.”

“But… you’re dead,” Jarvis began, then glanced over at Howard. “Sorry, sir. It is just highly disconcerting—”

“It’s all right, Jarvis,” Howard said, taking a curious step forward. At the same time, Tony took a step back, and held his hands up.

“Yeah, no,” Tony began, shaking his head. “I’m dead. Touch me, and you dissolve.”

That made Howard stop, but before the inventor could say a word, Michael spoke up, “It’s better if you don’t think too hard about it, Stark. It’s also not the point that Tony is making.”

“Hey, someone with practicality,” Tony sarcastically exclaimed. “Finally.”

“Howard,” Steve spoke up, drawing his friend’s attention back to him.

Just before his armor had fully receded back into the wristband, Steve had extracted the folder full of blueprints and schematics of the time jumping platform. Now that it was drawn and fully realized on paper, Steve knew that he could not keep it anywhere else in the house.

It needed to stay with him until he could hand it over to Howard. Even then, because of just how many enemies Howard had at this point in time, Steve knew that he needed to stay close to Howard. Especially if the platform could be built.

“I need to return the stones, but in order to return to this point in time, I need an anchor. The device that allows me to jump from time to time is supposed to be continuous – from anchoring me to 2023 back through where the stones were retrieved, and then returning me to 2023,” he said, holding out the folder. “According to Tony, another anchor will allow me to return here. Do you think you can build it?”

A seriousness unlike anything he had seen on Howard’s face before, overtook his friend. Steve carefully watched as Howard flipped through the diagrams, opening a portion of couple of schematics before closing them again. The minutes of silence that encompassed them within the living room seemed to stretch towards an hour.

“There are explosives drawn into the blueprints,” Howard stated, closing the folder.

“I can’t let anything from this fall into the wrong hands,” Steve carefully answered.

“Get rid of them,” Howard said, shoving the folder back at him. “Get rid of them, and I’ll be able to build it. “I know that this is something that should never fall into anyone’s hands. I’ll make sure it’s destroyed after you’re done with it. But don’t insult my intelligence ever again, Steve, by blindly, and visibly drawing those things into any blueprints.”

“Thank you,” Steve quietly answered.

He reached out to take the folder, but Howard didn’t let go. Howard surprised Steve a moment later, by letting go and immediately taking a step forward to embrace him tightly.

Steve smiled, both in happiness and sadness, patting his friend on the back as he returned the embrace. “I’m glad you’re alive, Steve,” he heard Howard say in a muffled tone.

After a few moments, Howard let him go, and stepped back, clearing his throat slightly in embarrassment. Jarvis covered for that by stepping forward, welcoming him home. Steve shook the butler’s hand, the smile upon his lips getting slightly larger as he saw Tony roll his eyes at the antics.

For good measure, Michael slapped him on the back, before going into the kitchen to fetch some stenies for the four of them. Jarvis initially tried to pass off not drinking, until Howard made him cave in. There were some laughter going around, before Howard gestured for Steve to hand the folder back to him.

Steve obliged, but saw the silent, non-verbal gesture from Tony that they would work the blueprints later. Tony was careful when he stepped into the group, though Jarvis seemed to take Tony’s words about dissolving to heart. The butler shifted just a half-step away from Tony, even though there was a decent amount of space already between Tony and Jarvis.

Steve did not move away, and remained where he was. He trusted Tony to be fully aware of all of his actions, and watched as Howard flipped through the pages yet again.

“How long do you think it will take?” Steve asked after a few moments.

“Well, we need to secure a location, and then logistics first,” Howard stated. “Has to be somewhere secret and safe. Jarvis can begin the bulk ordering and shipping of materials when that happens. Got a few contacts we can use that won’t squawk as much—”

Steve was slightly puzzled at the shrewd look that Howard had on his face, when the inventor looked up. Howard’s eyes were not on him though, and instead, had focused on Michael. “You’re MI-5, correct?”

“Yes,” Michael answered. “I’m not using people I know to help you, Stark.”

“No, no,” Howard answered, shaking his head slightly. “Didn’t expect you to anyways. It’s just… you’re a foreign federal agent. And here I am, talking stuff that’s grey, possibly black market.”

“I’m not going to arrest you, for Christ’s sake,” Michael said, looking slightly offended. “This isn’t going to be reported to my superiors either. You don’t think I know how _dangerous_ it is – with what we’re dealing with here? No nation – not even one person – should have this much power in their hands.”

“Welcome to the conspiracy,” Tony sarcastically stated, causing Michael and Steve to glare at him. However, Howard had a mild look upon his face and merely shrugged. Jarvis just looked a little worried.

“So,” Howard drawled slightly, turning his attention to Steve. “Are you okay with telling at least two others that you’re alive?”

Steve frowned. “Are they necessary?” he cautiously asked.

“One is a definite. The other… yeah, is also someone I need to tell,” Howard said, before waving the folder in the air for a few seconds. “This thing here, it’s complex. It would take at least three, maybe four months for me to even get a prototype working. I would say that I’d need a team, but that’s too many people in a conspiracy that do not need to know. So I’m going to go with the next best thing: recruit the only other engineer who can help me complete this faster. A month, month-and-a-half tops. If he agrees.”

“If he agrees,” Michael repeated, folding his arms across his chest. “Four months for you alone, and down to one-and-a-half months with only a second engineer? You’re not suggesting—”

“Oh but I am, Carter,” Howard answered, seemingly giving Michael a challenging look. “He’s wasting his potential away, building useless ‘gadgets’ for—”

“Which have saved countless of agents’ lives, Stark!”

“Hey!” Steve shouted, physically placing himself between Michael and Howard, arms out. He flicked his eyes at both of them, before putting his arms down. “Enough. What is going on, and who is this other engineer? Can’t Tony help instead?”

“You’d think Tony would understand just how technology worked right now?” Howard asked, eyes flickering back and forth between him and Tony.

Instead of exploding as Steve had anticipated Tony to do so – especially with the very visible bristling from Tony – his friend said, “Dick move, _Dad_ , but he’s right, Steve.”

Steve blinked, speechless for a couple of seconds. Before he could say anything, Tony continued, saying, “I tried to dumb the concepts down to what I know what people knew in the 40’s, but I think its still too advance. I can help, but only in verification that the thing is going to work. Don’t be shocked, but reverse engineering this kind of tech over seventy-five years is tough – even for me.”

As much as Steve wanted to say that he had confidence in Tony being able to reverse engineer the time-traveling anchor point, he didn’t. Tony had an ego that was as large in life as he was. Howard was nearly the same, even if that ego was shown differently. For both to admit that building this device was going to be difficult, said a lot.

“But, I… we still want you to stay, Steve,” Howard spoke up.

“Who is this other engineer?” Steve asked.

Howard gave him a slightly puzzled look. “You should know him, Steve. He worked with us in the SSR—”

“David Brewster,” Michael interrupted, before glaring at Howard. “Peggy and I usually don’t discuss work while at home, especially with Steve.”

“Oh,” Steve said, remembering the young engineer. While Brewster’s impact during his time in the SSR was not as great as Howard’s impact, Steve recalled that the engineer seemed to impact Bucky’s life more.

“He quit the SSR and my team, my company, Steve,” Howard stated. “One minute after we found out you died bringing Schmidt’s war bomber down, he wrote his resignation on a piece of paper, thrust it at me, and walked out. I had barely managed to convince him to remain on the team after Barnes was declared dead, but it seemed that your death was the last straw for him.”

Howard paused for a moment, sighing as he ran his hand through his hair. “We weren’t on speaking terms, until I found out that he joined up with the joint MI-5 and MI-6 engineering team. They came to me, wanting a verification of employment. I gave it to them, but David has continued to refused to return to work for me, or with me. He’s wasting his potential there!”

“And I’m sure what Michael said is true – he’s saving a lot of peoples’ lives, working there,” Steve carefully said. “I remember he was quite a good engineer during his time at the SSR. Why do you feel the need to take him away from doing what he wants to do? Isn’t there another engineer you can recruit, Howard?”

“Quite a good engineer,” Howard began, shaking his head slightly. “Steve. He was the only engineer on my team who managed to figure out _how_ to shrink down a two-way radio to manageable sizes! To give you and the Commandos the ability to talk to each other across the room without shouting, or hand signals! Don’t you remember that mission where you guys had to go to the Savoy and work with the Soviet delegation? David also took that invention, and shrunk it down even further. The one-way radio ‘bugs’ that all the spy agencies use nowadays? They’re all built from that concept! That prototype!”

Steve was silent for a long moment. There were so many things he could say in rebuttal, but he was afraid that Howard just wanted David back in the folds of Stark Industries.

Even while working for Howard in the SSR, Steve had seen just how kindhearted David was. Creating destructive weapons was only necessary for the engineer because of the war; to win against HYDRA. Steve had seen that eat at the engineer – and David had tried to walk as far away from that life as possible.

“Steve, we’re going to need a micro-engineer,” Tony spoke up, tone surprisingly not full of arrogance. “That kind of tech hasn’t been invented, and won’t be invented for another couple of decades. The fact that there is an engineer who understands the concepts behind it, and is capable of building that right now—”

“Michael?” Steve held up a hand to silence Tony, as he looked over towards his brother-in-law.

“You know who David’s father is, Steve,” Michael quietly stated. “Think about it.”

“We’ll need a good cover story,” Steve stated, sighing.

“Best excuse I can come up with, to cover all of this, is that I’m working on the serum,” Howard stated. “I found out that the government finally blew through their entire stockpile of your blood, Steve. I have a vial, and the SSR knows this. Which brings me to the other person that needs to know you’re alive.”

“Hold that for a moment, Howard,” Steve said, holding up his hand. “You might want David to help you, but _he_ gets to make the choice. Just let him look at a couple of the blueprints – the ones that are geared towards his competencies, and let him decide. He doesn’t get to know that I’m alive, or what you’re building, or any of this. Not unless he agrees by his own choice.”

“I’ll make sure that happens,” Michael stated.

The look that Howard gave Michael was indecipherable, but Steve saw him nod in agreement. “And the other person?” Steve asked.

“Philips,” Howard stated.

As much as Steve wanted to explode in protest, he managed to take a deep breath, and let it out slowly. “Why?” he asked, trying to keep calm.

“He’s the only one who can authorize the reactivation of the Brooklyn base,” Howard answered. “If I’m using the serum as the excuse, what better place than where it all started? One way in, one way out. Good, secured place—”

“That was infiltrated by a HYDRA assassin,” Michael muttered.

“Michael,” Steve began, silencing his brother-in-law. He focused his attention back on Howard, saying, “Philips isn’t head of the SSR anymore, Howard. He’s Section Chief of Europe—”

“I know,” Howard interrupted, nodding. “But the place was used during the war, and he still probably knows the right palms to grease to keep this under wraps. You think politicians and the US Army will listen to Chief Thompson when it comes to re-creating the serum, Steve? He’s a Navy boy who fought in the Pacific.”

Howard scoffed at the notion, before continuing to say, “It’s a laboratory, and we’re not going to interfere with HQ’s activities. People get curious, and he’ll be able to slap them away—”

“I think you’re overestimating the amount of influence that Chief Philips has, Stark,” Michael interrupted him. “But, he’s right, Steve. At least on getting the cover story and Philips to back it up.”

Steve didn’t say anything for a few long seconds. The arguments presented were sound, but he was worried about Philips knowing that he was alive. Both Peggy and Michael had told him what happened to his former commander after he had died. The barrier between Philips knowing and the world finding out that Steve ‘Captain America’ Rogers was not dead, was incredibly thin.

Yet, Steve knew that there was no other place they could build the device in secret, and keep it as safe as possible. The underground facility in Brooklyn was the only other secured place. Camp Lehigh’s underground base for SHIELD didn’t even exist in this timeline.

“All right,” Steve said.

He was sure that there would be some price to remaining here, and it looked as if it were to come due – if Philips agreed.

* * *

_A few days later…_

“We have evidence that within recent weeks, an atomic explosion occurred in the USSR…”

The radio continued repeat President Truman’s message to the world. Every SSR agent had already heard the initial broadcast, chilled by the implications of what it meant. Reports from the other US intelligence agencies had stated that the Soviets would not have nuclear capabilities until possibly 1953. Michael had all but verbally confirmed that that was what several European intelligence agencies had thought as well.

They were wrong.

Even worse, was that Tony had stated that the Soviet Union was a little less than a year early on the detonation – that in his, Natasha, and Steve’s timeline, that first detonation didn’t happen until the 23rd of September in 1949. The implications of an accelerated timeline of events were vast, and Peggy had seen Steve deeply frown, but remain strangely silent.

Then, Tony had stated in what Peggy felt was an inappropriately casual tone, that the best case scenario was that ‘mutually assured destruction’ would hold between the Western bloc and Eastern bloc. That between the superpowers of the United States and the Soviet Union, if either would fire their weapons at the other, retaliation would be swift and deadly. That had not garnered any good will towards Tony.

That was also when Howard and Jarvis had arrived at the house. Nothing more had been said between all of them, as they made their goodbyes. Michael left with Howard, taking advantage of Howard’s offer to fly to England on his private airplane. Steve left with them – his first overseas trip since arriving and settling in this time.

Peggy could still feel the strong, warm, protective arms of her husband wrapped around her when they said their goodbyes… His broad, powerful body pressed against her, shielding her from the world… The unspoken words in his eyes that told her that he would be there to protect her – no matter how far apart they were—

“Hey,” Bucky’s warm, reassuring voice shook Peggy out of her memories of the morning. He had pulled up a chair next to her desk, placing a bagged sandwich from the deli down the street, and full mug of coffee in front of her. “Everything’s going to be all right.”

She silently nodded, and forced herself to not wring her hands together in worry. The prospect of a full-blown nuclear war on the horizon was on everyone’s minds. As much as she wanted to believe in Tony’s words that ‘mutually assured destruction’ would stay the hands of their leaders, she couldn’t fully believe it.

Phones at the SSR were ringing off the hook – especially for engineering. Everyone wanted to know if the SSR had devices, or plans to help defend the West from the East. Cases, such as the simple, mundane ones she had been given had been pushed to the side in favor of analyses, and more pressing matters. Those pressing matters had been to investigate, analyze, and assess threat levels for any suspicious activities from possibly Soviet citizens or Communists in the past few weeks.

It was paranoia, driven by a sense of fear, and urgency – it was madness.

The case involving Dottie Underwood and the creatures still dominated part of the strategic board in the meeting room, but only a small portion now. The case was still open, but Peggy had been assigned as the sole agent on the case this morning. As much as it surprised her and everyone else – Thompson had drafted all other agents into the priority threat analyses of Soviet presence and activities within the US. No one else had time to deal with Dottie or creatures that were and were not quite a threat to lives.

Yet, since New Rochelle, there had been no sighting or attack of the creatures. No one had also seen Dottie, which worried Peggy. The night after New Rochelle, Bucky had told her in private – away from the other agents – what Dottie had said to him, and how she had reacted to his offer of help.

However, in light of the morning’s radio broadcast, Bucky had also been drafted into helping Thompson and the others. It had come to light, by Thompson himself, that Bucky had worked in and around Soviet lines in Berlin.

While the Soviet blockade and Western airlift operations were still on-going, Peggy already knew of Bucky’s service record in Berlin, because it was detailed in his personnel file. Berlin was one of the first missions Bucky had been assigned as a newly minted SSR agent – utilizing his linguistic skills in Russian. It was what SSR-Europe had termed a ‘getting the feet wet’ mission.

Everything else that she knew of in Bucky’s file was simple, general information – or misinformation, she presumed. What she knew of her friend, and of his skills and time during the war, was guaranteed to have SSR-Europe place misinformation within his file. It was to ensure that everyone else did not know too much about what he actually did.

Nothing had been written of Bucky’s deployment behind enemy lines for Operation Midnight; Peggy didn’t expect it to. Midnight was a top-secret operation, and she herself had only been privy to a small portion of it during the war. Even now, Bucky spoke little of it – and only the portions relevant to her search for Dottie Underwood, a Black Widow.

She took the coffee and sipped at it, glancing over at the meeting room. It was still full of agents, but some of them were down in the engineering laboratories. She was sitting at her desk in the bullpen, which seemed cavernous, compared to the sardine-like meeting room.

“I’m surprised they let you go for a break,” she remarked.

“I may have said some choice words to Thompson,” Bucky answered in a rather neutral tone. “You’re just as much of an expert in the Soviet Union as I am. Why didn’t you speak up?”

“Only during the war,” she answered. “You have more recent experience. At least I can now fully concentrate on trying to find Dottie Underwood, without having to cover my tracks.”

“You still think she’s trying to defect?”

There was nothing in Bucky’s tone to suggest that he doubted her, but she heard it all the same. She looked at the lone bullet sitting on her desk. It was from one of the cartridges that engineering had supplied her for her Walther. While outwardly the same, if held up to the light correctly, there was a sheen coating the bullet that would not normally be there.

Dottie’s sword had been confirmed to be vibranium – the same material as Steve’s shield. As useful as it was to keep the sword intact, someone in engineering had proposed to melt down the sword and coat the bullets that they fired with the metal. The theory was the hope that because the sword dusted the creatures instantly, bullets fired would do the same.

No one had a chance to field test the theory, yet.

“I’m still keeping all options open,” Peggy answered, returning her attention to him.

He silently nodded, and got up, pushing the borrowed chair back to its desk. “Be careful, Peggy,” was all he said to her, before heading back to the busy meeting room.

* * *

_Just outside of London…_

Steve remembered Gatwick Airport, but not as it had been in the 1940’s. The air transports that flew the Commandos to Europe on their missions never flew from Gatwick. He only knew of the airport from the future – busy and chaotic with enormous airplanes, as it ferried take-off and landings.

It was not as chaotic, and the passenger airplanes not as large as they would become. Yet, Steve sat in Howard’s relatively comfortable, personal airplane, still feeling apprehensive. He knew he shouldn’t worry, that he should trust Michael and especially Howard to keep their word, but they were potentially bringing in two more people into the secret.

With President Truman’s address to the world, secrecy was ever more important. Yet, he also knew that even with the best case scenario of what Tony had stated was ‘mutually assured destruction’ between the US and Soviet Union—

“Don’t even think about doing it, Steve.”

Steve blinked and looked up from where he had been staring at a spot within the airplane. He didn’t know how long he had been sitting in the same position, but he was a little glad that Tony had shook him out of his reverie.

“Do what?” he asked, frowning. “I’m not going to go and destroy nuclear weapons and piles of radioactive materials, Tony.”

“Yeah, not what I was thinking of, Rogers,” his friend answered. “More like you spewing your rhetoric of peace and harmony, blah blah blah and all that—”

Steve bristled, but managed to keep his calm, saying, “Tony. You know that’s not me—”

“Really?” Tony sarcastically questioned. “Because last I remembered, you gave a rather interesting speech to the world after you and the others came back from killing Thanos in his retirement home. Had shades of keeping the peace in the world, and to not rise up in arms against each other.”

“And you remember that I barely participated in the peacekeeping process myself,” Steve pointed out. “That’s not me anymore, Tony. As much as I _want_ to teleport into those facilities and stop all of this, I won’t. It’s akin to the Sokovia Accords that didn’t let us choose. Akin to HYDRA—”

“That’s unfair, Rogers,” Tony stated. “You can’t just equate the Accords to HYDRA—”

“The world needs the freedom to choose what they want to do, Tony,” Steve interrupted. “Especially right now. The situation is standing on the edge of a knife – it hasn’t gone south yet. Why are you questioning my judgment, Tony? I _know_ the risks of using the stones at this very moment.”

“You’re a walking arsenal of power,” Tony stated. “Romanov didn’t want to tell you this, but since she’s across the Atlantic keeping any eye on your wife and your not-a-murderous-killing-machine best friend, she can’t stop me. It’ll take her a few minutes to transport back to stop me anyhow.”

“His name is Bucky, Tony,” Steve said. “And what’s this about stopping you? I thought you’re a resident of the stone, a barrier, the same as she is?”

“A piece of my soul as a barrier, yes,” Tony agreed, nodding. “Her ledger, or the blood that fills the stone, is her barrier. Her barrier is thinning faster than she’s letting on, Steve. Whatever the hell she’s killing while protecting your wife and… Barnes… isn’t working. She needs to kill actual people to replenish that barrier – to keep her ledger dripping red.”

Steve remained silent, frowning as he glanced down at his left hand. The wristband was hidden beneath the shirt he wore; he had dared not leave it at home, now that people knew about it.

“How long?” he quietly asked.

Silence answered him. Steve looked up, only to see Tony shaking his head. “You have a plan that doesn’t involve using the stones?” he asked instead.

“The SSR has the Tesseract here, Rogers,” Tony answered, an unusually ominous gleam suddenly in his eyes. “All you need to do is go grab it, and then, an alternate wielder exists. You don’t have to use it, but Barnes can. He’s all but said that he’s been behind enemy lines, and can take Romanov—”

“Who the hell are you, really?” Steve interrupted, standing up as best as he could within the airplane. He immediately took a step away from Tony.

The mannerisms and appearance were Tony – but the words were anything but. ‘Tony’ looked at him, still sitting in the seat with a simple look before falling over to the side—no. Tony fell over, but a shadow clothed in glittering purple-black like a crystal, remained.

“What the hell...” Steve began, appalled. He dared not step over to see if Tony was all right.

“You never use me, Steve,” the entity said in a darkly seductive tone. The voice was still Tony, but Steve thought he could hear the whispered echoes of Peggy mixed with Bucky’s voices all around him, murmuring sweet nothings into his ear—

“Power Stone,” Steve realized. “How—”

“Sorry,” Tony, having fallen to the side, suddenly growled. Steve saw him leap up, tackling the entity.

The entity rammed into the side of the fuselage, physically shaking the aircraft for just a moment, before suddenly dissolving into a pile of purple-black sand. That pile slowly faded until all Steve could see was the seat, and Tony half-sprawled over it.

“Tony?” he cautiously said, taking a step forward.

“Sorry, Steve,” Tony croaked out, opening his eyes and looked up at him. “Kind of my fault there with the six split souls and all—”

The aircraft door suddenly opened, letting cold air spill in. “Captain Rogers?” Jarvis’ voice floated up into the airplane a moment later.

Just as Jarvis entered, Tony disappeared, leaving Steve standing where he was. “Sir?” Jarvis questioned.

Steve blinked in confusion and unease, staring at the space where Tony and the pile of purple-black crystalline sand pile were. Glancing down at his left hand, there was nothing to suggest that his armor had been activated. There was also nothing to suggest the sinister, insidiously alluring whispers of Peggy and Bucky crawling through his ears, had also been there.

“Sir?” Jarvis questioned again, this time causing Steve to look up to see the butler standing before him, reaching out.

“I’m fine,” Steve said, shaking his head slightly. “What’s going on?”

Jarvis looked hesitant for a second, as if not believing him, before giving him the benefit of the doubt. “Philips has agreed to meet in a safe house just outside of the city. Agent Carter is currently traveling with him, Mr. Stark, Mr. Brewster, and Chief Philips himself to the safe house.”

“Brewster?” Steve questioned. “David?”

“Ah yes,” Jarvis said, brightening slightly. “Howard did as you asked, with Agent Carter supervising of course, and handed young David Brewster a couple of blueprints. Mr. Brewster agreed to work with Mr. Stark in building the device, with some conditions.”

“Anything that I need to get involved in?” Steve asked.

“I shall tell you the whole story, on our way there, Captain Rogers,” Jarvis answered.

* * *

_New York City…_

“Not a good time, Romanov,” Bucky managed to say through gritted teeth as soon as he heard the tell-tale sounds of her deliberate footsteps within his hotel room.

The bathroom light was soft as it was harsh against his eyes. Sunken eyes with dark circles surrounded by pale skin could be explained by the lack of sleep due to the various crises that the SSR was responding to. But Bucky knew it was a pittance of excuse he could give to others.

His nightmares – the chilling, revolting _voice_ _s_ of Zola and Ivchenko – continued to plague him.

Days had passed without an attack by the creatures. Thompson had set a rotation for shifts for all of the agents in response to Truman’s speech. Bucky was supposed to be sleeping at the moment. But sleep eluded him – even when sex with Michael the night before Michael had left, had physically exhausted both of them.

It keep eluding him, and soon, Bucky knew that he would collapse out of pure fatigue. Even his super-soldier body could not keep up with over ninety-six hours of wakefulness. He was beginning to skirt into dangerous territory where he knew hallucinations—

“Journaling,” was all Romanov stated.

Bucky glanced towards the entrance to the bathroom. He had left the door open, letting the yellow light spill out into the small room. Romanov had not entered, but he could see the barest outline of her, leaning against the wall adjacent to the entrance.

“Pardon?” he asked.

Bucky slowly letting go of the sides of the sink that he had held onto with both of his hands. The left side of the sink had some spidering cracks. He knew that he would have to inform hotel management of it sooner rather than later.

“When Steve was on the run, I got caught up in the same circumstances as he did, and went with him. He… had a lot on his mind. I couldn’t help him—”

“He turned you down for sex.” Even before the words had slipped out of his lips, Bucky knew that he shouldn’t have made that snide comment. It was unfair, and his lack of sleep was talking—

“I’m sorry,” he immediately, and sincerely apologized.

Romanov remained silent for a long moment before continuing to say, “One of the ways he coped with it was to journal – to write it all down. Then he waited one day, read over the words, and then burned it. He told me it was a tradition that Agent Carter introduced to both you and him.”

_Not quite_ , he wanted to correct Natasha, but held his tongue for the moment.

“Steve saw many things – too many things. If half of what he saw and wrote down were of the war, then I have to guess that you were witness to it as well,” Natasha said after a few seconds of silence. “I don’t know if it will help you—”

“Romanov,” Bucky began.

Before he could thank her, he saw wobble slightly, before collapsing to the ground in a heap. Two steps was all it took for him to emerge from the bathroom. Bucky barely remembered in time to not touch her. He aborted his action to reach out and help her.

“What happened?” he asked.

She didn’t respond. There was a glassy look in her eyes, even though he could see the faint up and down movement of her chest that indicated that she was breathing.

Bucky wasn’t sure if taking a towel or even ripping sheets off the bed to wrap around his hands would prevent ‘dusting’. All he could do at the moment was watch over her, as she laid curled on the floor.

Just as he was about to give up and throw caution into the wind, she suddenly coughed. She sat up so fast that Bucky barely took a half-step back in time to avoid brushing against her. A moment later, a rather interesting litany of curses in Russian fell from her lips, before she took a deep breath.

“Tony briefly lost control of the Power Stone,” Natasha whispered.

She wasn’t moving from where she sat, but neither was she offering any further explanation to her somewhat confusing statement. Bucky knew that the ‘Power Stone’ was one of the stones that Steve carried – the purple-black one, if he remembered correctly.

He still didn’t like the fact that Steve was actively using the stones, but all he had seen and remembered the ones Steve used were the Reality, Soul, and Space stones. Space – the Tesseract that had powered HYDRA’s weapons – being the first one that transported him, along with Michael out of where they had been held captive. Of the others: Time, Power, and Mind, he had never seen Steve use them.

“Lost control?” he questioned, worry trying to override the exhaustion he felt.

“It’s the most dangerous stone out of the six,” Natasha stated, looking up at him. “It needs to be returned first. I think it was just sensing that it would be returned to its original state soon, and wanted to exert some control, tempt Steve into using it—”

“You make it sound as if they’re alive, Romanov,” Bucky began, unease filling him. When she didn’t immediately answer him, his unease grew. “Are they? Is Steve… possessed?”

“Tony has it under control again,” was all she said.

“You should go and help, then,” he said. “We got it covered here, if the creatures attack again.”

She gave him a mirthless smile, shaking her head. “They haven’t attacked in the past few days. Why do you think I’m still here, Barnes?”

“I don’t know,” he answered, crouching down so they were eye-to-eye. “Why are you?”

“Spelling it out for you was not my intention, Barnes,” she stated. “Neither was offering that suggestion of journaling—”

“And I’ll say it again,” he said. “I’m sorry for making that remark. It was uncalled for.”

She merely stared at him, eyes telling him nothing, before saying, “You truly are different.” She stood up, and Bucky followed her action. “I will not accept your apology,” she continued to say, “but I will accept the sentiment behind it, Barnes.”

As she walked further into the room, the shadows seemed to partially swallow her. Bucky realized she was fading out to return to wherever she ‘lived’ while not in the stone. At least that was his assumption.

She turned slightly, half-faded into the shadows that it made her look ever more mysterious. “Word of advice: get as much rest as you can, Barnes. This war… it’s just beginning, and I’m not talking about the stones. This ‘Cold War’, if the US and Soviet Union are able to remain calm… it can only be won in the shadows. Where you, the other Widows, myself, and countless of other spies live, breathe, fight, and… die.”

Her words, though dire, stirred something within him. It wasn’t a sense of fear, nor was it the tiredness that clawed at him. Instead, it was a strange sense of anticipation – of a calling.

… _you’re the one **he** called the Winter Soldier…_

“Romanov,” Bucky called out before she could fully disappear. “Dottie Underwood said something – something I didn’t tell Peggy. I’m not sure what it is, but I think it might be related to the year-and-a-half that I spent behind enemy lines. During that time, I never encountered or found any documents referencing this program or code name. Do you know who or what is this ‘Winter Soldier’?”

It was almost lost to a blink of his eyes, but he thought he saw her stiffen. “No,” Natasha answered, giving him an unremarkable look. “I don’t know who that is here.”

She disappeared before he could ask her to clarify the ‘here’. The fact that she had deliberately worded it in such a way, told Bucky that she most likely knew who the Winter Soldier was in her and Steve’s timeline.

Her reaction also told him that she had memories of the Winter Soldier as well – bad ones. Bucky glanced down at his left hand, clenching his jaw. He curled his metal fingers into a fist, and squeezed his eyes tightly shut. The echoing memories of Ivchenko’s voice slithered into his thoughts:

… _the Winter Soldier killed his father via proxy when he was a mere child. He is truly a child of a Black Widow, never mind **the** Black Widow. It is in his very nature to kill anyone who threatens the one he loves… _

* * *

_Outside of London, Undisclosed SSR Safe House…_

Steve took a deep breath as he stood outside on the steps before the door to the safe house. It was a simple, small nondescript-looking house. But he was wasting everyone’s time by remaining out here, picking apart the house with his eyes.

Glancing over at Jarvis, he nodded, and the butler opened the door, entering first. Steve followed and shut the door, before following Jarvis to where the others were waiting.

There was no ostentatious display to his entrance into the living room. Michael was standing on the far side, as was Howard. Howard’s protege from the war, David Brewster, was looking through one of the blueprints, while Philips was waiting with as much patience as he could muster.

Steve ignored David dropping the blueprint in shock, and sought out Philips with his eyes. He stood at attention before his former commander.

“C-Captain Rogers?! Steve?” David stuttered slightly, gaping at him.

“What the devil? Rogers?!” was all Philips stated, taking a single step forward.

Rather than the continued and repeated song and dance that he had done with his friends and family in the past few days, Steve merely tapped the inset of his wristband twice – the armor bled over him.

“I’m not here to lead the country, or any other nation in this brewing conflict, sir,” he began. “I am here because I made a mistake. I chose to be selfish for once, and it led me here to this point in time – to live anonymously, hoping for a quiet life. By remaining here, as-is and as the way I am, I am putting my friends, my family, and the people of the world in danger.”

The Reality Stone slipped into his left hand, its hunger lashing ravenously against his mind. But Steve did not activate or project his memories into the stone. All he did was allow the memories of the six stones to appear around them.

“Where I am from, trillions of lives died because of these six stones, sir,” Steve continued. “I saw them perish, and was powerless to stop them. I was given a mission to return them to where they came from. To do that, I need your help.”

~*~*~*~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> President Truman’s address to the world, notifying them of the first atomic detonation in the Soviet Union happened in real-life on 23 September 1949, not November 1948 per Steve’s new timeline. The test was code-named Joe-1 by the US, but is known as Device 501, RDS-1, or First Lightning.
> 
> Additionally, while the chapter theme music have been relatively calm and hope-inspiring, we are reaching a turning point in the story (hence Ninja Track’s Aftershock as the theme). So, prepare for even more epic music tracks to come, including Ninja Track’s Pretender (WINTER MIX), which was used in one of the CA:TWS trailers.


	10. Memory Extraction Session: грузовой вагон

**Memory Extraction Session: грузовой вагон**

_Fight! You have to fight!_

His eyes remained closed, ignoring the persistent, insistent voice that was not his own, in his head. Images that were conjured with the voice showed a young man with a mop of blond-brown hair, blue-green eyes, and a stubborn look set upon his thin face. The young man’s body was so thin that the clothes he wore were absurdly large.

_Don’t give up! Fight!_

He wanted to retort. To just banish the thought, the voice, the memories away – to just let it all go and rest. He didn’t remember who he was, or who the young man was. He didn’t… care. He was much too tired – too lethargic and weak – to try to remember where he was or how he got here. All he found comfort in was the fact that there was something cold, almost unforgiving pressed up against his back.

He was laying on a metal table. Chills swept through him. Each point where bare skin touched the table seemed as much of a comfort as it was a knife silently plunged into him.

“Sir, he’s not moving,” a voice said from somewhere near his foot.

“Of course he is not,” a nasal, oily-like sharp toned voice answered. “I have no doubt that the stop commands my colleague embedded worked.”

“I thought we were supposed to only use one of those commands. Not all eight stop commands at once, sir.”

The shuffling of feet filled the silence, before the nasal voice said, “Testing and retesting are all I am doing. I must begin the fine-tune calibration of the electric device to the Winter Soldier. To preclude any sudden attacks, this is the safest way I can subdue the Winter Soldier. Until my colleague returns and completes the final transformation command, using the stop commands are all we have.”

Silence and seconds passed before he heard feet shuffling around again. The sounds of things being moved around filled the air, yet he still did not open his eyes. It would be better if he drifted off now, to let it all go and give up—

_Fight!_

_Please!_

“Radio report, Dr. Zola,” a voice jolted him awake. “Alexander Lukin and Dr. Ivchenko are inbound in thirty minutes—”

A sudden and deep rumbling sound, shaking and rattling everything around him – including the slab he was lying on – cut off whatever else the voice was saying. He could see lights flickering this way and that through his closed eyelids—

_You have to fight!_

“Put the Winter Soldier back to sleep—” the nasally-voiced man named Zola hastily commanded.

… _hang on Bucky. I’m coming…_

The voice, so clear and not muddied like before, seared like a cleansing fire through his thoughts.

“Steve!” he gasped.

Bucky snapped his eyes open, just as hands were placed on his arms and shoulders. Heaving with all of his strength, he snapped the leather binds apart, tossing the two soldiers on either side of him away. He rolled up with renewed vigor, and strength drawn from the cold, deep well of anger within him.

Bucky growled—

“желание.”

… _all he could do now was survive, because he longed to live…_

“ржaвый.”

… _there was a searching look in_ _his eyes…_

“семнадцать.”

… _t_ _here was a solemn look in h_ _is_ _eyes…_

“рассвет.”

… _daybreak had arrived…_

“печь.”

_...carry a frozen body, child or adult…_

“девять.”

… _his eyes were doing that searching look again…_

“добросердечный.”

… _how many more times they had before either of their luck ran out…_

“возвращение на родину.”

… _they were his reason to come home, no matter what happened…_

“один.”

… _he should have made his peace long ago…_

He staggered, watching the man in the white lab coat’s lips split into a cruel smile, and collapsed. A piercing point of agonizing pain drilled between his eyes, and wouldn’t let go.

Rough hands swept him up, and off the floor, dragging him somewhere, as the rumbling noise grew louder. Chaotic sounds of explosions and flashing lights of red assaulted his ears and eyes. He didn’t know where the hands were taking him—

“Dr. Zola! It's Captain America! He’s _**here**_ , attacking—” a horrified voice shouted.

… _it’s me. It’s Steve…_

… _hang on Bucky. I’m coming…_

He couldn’t hear what else was being said, as he suddenly felt himself being lifted up and deposited rather roughly into a cramped space. Feebly protesting, a metal door closed against him, sealing him within in the coffin.

A jumbled, disconcerting rush of fragmented memories flooded him. The last thing Bucky felt was the ice cold sensation coating and filling every part of him—

~*~*~*~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last of the Extraction Session memories, which leads directly into the first chapter of the story. I didn't cover the memory details on all of the conditioning words in the red book, mainly because those memories have already been written and can be found in [A Million Shards Falling](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14661462/chapters/33871146). Only the relevant ones for this story were extracted and covered.
> 
> If there are any other relevant flashbacks to the story from Bucky's POV, they will be covered within the future chapters.


	11. Resonance Cascade – Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Theme: '[Resonance Cascade](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=96L2Cw-04vY)' by Ninja Tracks.

**Chapter 6: Resonance Cascade – Part 1**

_November 21 st, 1948, New York City…_

“Carter!”

Peggy was a little glad that she was not the only one to jump ever so slightly at Thompson’s shout. “My office, now!” her commander continued after a moment.

She caught Daniel’s look of surprise and worry at the same time. Even Bucky, sitting three rows up from where she was, and a couple other agents were looking at her with some concern. Shaking her head slightly, as she also didn’t know what was going on, she quickly left her desk and entered Thompson’s office.

Closing the door, behind her, she saw Thompson gesture to one of the two chairs before his desk. “Have a seat, Agent Carter.”

“Yes, sir,” she obediently answered.

Thompson looked not to be in a terribly foul mood, but there did seem to be irritation written all over him. “I just got off the phone with the Joint Chiefs of Staff,” Thompson stated. “Howard Stark has been authorized to attempt to recreate the serum, using the old Brooklyn facility. I’ve been ordered to put you as the Agent-in-Charge on the project. They said, and I quote ‘need expertise within the previous iteration of the project, even if it is a woman’.”

Peggy stared at Thompson in surprise, before realizing that Steve had convinced Philips to reopen the Brooklyn facility. Her former commander had agreed to it _without_ forcing Steve to reveal himself.

She knew that Steve had been incredibly reluctant to even agree to let Howard ask Philips to open the facility. Even if the recreation of the ‘serum’ was the cover story of Howard building the time-traveling device, she knew that there would be some price to pay to get Philips’ agreement in the ‘conspiracy’.

It was doubly more so now. In all practical purposes, Steve appearing at this very moment, when the world was still roiling from President Truman’s message, was a symbol of hope. The stones he carried were powerful weapons. But she could clearly see that he did not want to give that to any country – even the US.

“ _No person or country, not even myself, should have this much power. The corruption, the influence, and the want to change – for better or worse – is too great. The world must decide on their own, the path they want to take. I cannot – I will not – take away their freedom of choice, no matter what may happen.”_

His words to her just before he had left, were held tightly in her heart. They both knew that Philips had started the Super-Soldier Program to give the US and their allies an advantage in the war. But it had been Dr. Erskine who ultimately made the choice on who would be the first. It was a condition that the good doctor made the SSR agree to, before signing up to help with the project.

Only, Peggy had not heard from Steve since he had left.

Michael had sporadically contacted her, telling her only of the weather in England. She had to listen closely between the lines to interpret that Steve was doing well. Nothing had been mentioned of convincing Philips or anything else – until now.

“Um,” she began, accepting the rather thick folder that Thompson handed to her.

“Summary dossiers of all SSR agents – Headquarters and Europe,” Thompson stated. “You’re authorized to recruit the necessary agents needed to maintain whatever cover story you come up with for the Brooklyn facility.”

This was the true source of Thompson’s irritation. The fact that she was pulling agents off Soviet intelligence duty for a project that had a slim chance of succeeding, was telling. It was blatantly clear to her that the Joint Chiefs were hoping that she would fail. The US government had blown through their stockpile of Steve’s blood nine months ago, and they only turned to Howard now, at the last minute.

Whether that had been through Philips’ influence or not, it was clear to her that they were desperate. Truman’s message had shaken not only the people of the nation, but even their military leaders.

Yet, she couldn’t tell if Thompson was trying to set her up to fail. She knew he tolerated her – they had come to a grudging mutual understanding of sorts after the Ivchenko and Dottie Underwood debacle. But she was still given – to borrow Bucky’s more colorful term – ‘shit’ assignments.

Thompson never stepped in to stop the newer agents from harassing her, leaving her to deal with it herself. He only reluctantly acknowledged her work at the SSR whenever the brass visited – most recently in the last few days.

Even then, the brass had come just to talk to Bucky. Her friend had attempted to defer some of the knowledge about Soviet intelligence to her during his ‘interview’ with the brass. They had not approached her.

Bucky had told her about the reason why he had been temporarily transferred – and that he refused to play the politics with the role. It was clear that all he wanted to do was his job, especially in Europe. She suspected that even if Steve were not alive, he would have preferred to work in Europe, no matter the excuse.

But to survive here at SSR Headquarters, they all had to play politics while performing their duties as federal agents. Thompson was Chief, but Peggy had long been working at Philips side during the war to know how to be an effective, if shadowed and hidden second-in-command.

Before Peggy could comment, Thompson continued to say, “SSR-Europe has already assigned one of their own to the project – Joint Chiefs didn’t protest it. Another so-called ‘expert’ who apparently worked with you before. Name is Meredith Lorraine.”

“Lorraine,” Peggy repeated, surprised.

She flipped open the folder and found that Philips’ old personal spy-secretary’s dossier was at the top and marked with an [AUTHORIZED] stamp. She never knew what happened to Lorraine after the war. When Philips was forced to retire as the commander of the SSR, Lorraine seemingly went into retirement as well. Neither Michael or Bucky had certainly never told her that Lorraine had rejoined the SSR – as an active field agent.

“Stark also received permission to recruit an engineer whose ‘expertise’ is needed for the project,” Thompson continued to state. “I was told the engineer is affiliated with MI-5, and comes with a bodyguard.”

Peggy blinked, surprised and somehow not at all as well. She knew that Howard’s secondary goal was to recruit David Brewster – Howard’s former protege – but she hadn’t expected him to be successful. Assigning a bodyguard to David was even more strange.

But she also knew that that was not the point of Thompson’s brief. “There are already agreements in place between SSR-Europe and MI-5. Whatever their reason, the vested interest of both agencies in this project will be well-protected.”

“See to it that it does, Carter,” Thompson stated, before standing up, and gestured to the meeting room. “Meeting room is open for the next hour.”

“Thank you, sir,” she answered, standing up as well. “May I also recruit outside the SSR?”

She could see Thompson wanting to immediately say ‘no’, but hesitated. A shrewd look appeared on his face before he said, “You’re not thinking of recruiting from the 107th?”

“Yes, sir,” she said.

“I’ll make the call,” Thompson said, reaching for the phone. “Might alleviate the drain of agents here.”

She nodded once, before saying, “I also already have the agents in mind to be tasked to this duty.”

“Let me guess,” Thompson began, moving his hand away from the phone. “Barnes and Sousa.”

“Li as well,” she finished up, nodding once.

“That’s it?” The skeptical, but surprised look that he gave her was expected. She presumed that he assumed that she would recruit at least ten agents minimum for a protective detail around Brooklyn.

“For now,” she confirmed. “If the 107th are allowed to be recruited into the project, then that will be it.”

“Your call then, Carter,” he said, but then walked to the door and opened it. “Barnes, Sousa, and Li!” he stated in an authoritative tone.

Heads turned, and Peggy saw puzzlement float across the three’s faces. “Hand off your work,” Thompson stated after a moment. “You are all going with Carter on her assignment. She’ll brief you on the details shortly.”

Eyes blinked, though Bucky’s was the only one that Peggy saw slide into both understanding and satisfaction. Thompson stepped to the side, clearly indicating for her to leave his office. “Your team, your brief, Carter,” he stated clearly enough that everyone in the bullpen heard him.

* * *

Bucky wanted to back-slap and congratulate Peggy every step – or rather drive – of the way, until they got to their destination in Brooklyn. Even as they stepped out of the cars, Bucky still wanted to hug her – but he didn’t. Instead, he settled for simply grinning.

He was proud of Peggy – for her to be assigned as the Agent-in-Charge of the Brooklyn facility. Though he hadn’t been under her direct command the one time she had been tasked to lead the SSR during the war, he had heard the reports of her leadership from others. Her short stint as commander of the SSR while Philips was busy elsewhere, was remarked upon as ‘steady and inspiring’ in the face of conflict.

In his opinion, Peggy deserved to lead the Brooklyn team and facility.

“You’re from Brooklyn, aren’t you, Bucky?” Sousa commented as they made their way down the slightly crowded sidewalk.

“Yeah,” he answered, looking around. It had been almost six years since he had left Brooklyn, and the place looked only slightly different. Memories flooded him, as a wistful smile quirked up the edges of his lips.

“First time back?” Sousa continued to ask.

“Since the war,” he answered.

“You could apply for a transfer—” Sousa began.

“Michael?”

Bucky dragged his gaze down, as Peggy’s question drew all of their attention to the small group of three standing in front of what looked to be a shuttered antiques store. The wistful smile upon his face turned into a small grin as he saw Michael, standing next to David.

Michael’s presence certainly explained just how David had acquired a ‘bodyguard’. He couldn’t help but wonder if Philips had arranged it – or if the bodyguard assignment was an actual MI-5 assignment. Bucky knew that David was one of the joint team’s top engineers – working mostly on communications, listening, and encryption devices.

Even more surprising was that Lorraine was here, but he had a hunch that she was here because of Philips himself. Given the miracle that Philips had most likely arranged for the Brooklyn facility to be reopened, Philips would embed his trusted personal spy among them. But Lorraine was a known entity to him, and Bucky could only assume that she knew something of what was going on.

And that was the crux of it. Sousa and Li were only given the ‘cover story’ to the Brooklyn facility’s purpose – Howard recreating the serum. The others – himself, Peggy, Michael, Howard, David, and most likely Lorraine – knew that the facility was going to house the time-traveling anchoring device.

If the 107th were recruited to help guard the facility, only time would tell if Steve was willing to allow the others to know of his survival. Peggy had not briefed all of them on the ‘cover story’ of the ‘cover story’, but he was certain that only a select few of them would be allowed into the facility once Howard began construction.

“Been a while Peggy. Bodyguard duties,” was all Michael said.

Introductions were made. Bucky noticed that Lorraine was taking careful interest in both Sousa and Li – especially Sousa, but left it alone. He had a contentious relationship with Philips’ spy-secretary – both during the war, and after she had rejoined as a full-fledged agent. For the sake of the mission and task, he would try to keep the peace.

After a few minutes, they headed inside the shuttered antique shop. Bucky was the last to follow them in, as he took one last look around the neighborhood – and spotted something interesting on the rooftop of the shop.

A flash of red hair swinging back over the lip and beyond his current line of sight, was all that he needed to know from Natasha that Steve had returned.

~~~

“Are you really sure you don’t want me to find you, wherever or whenever in the next few years, you are in the Soviet Union?” Steve couldn’t help but ask as he watched Natasha saunter away from the edge of the rooftop.

“Trying to set me up with Barnes via wife husbandry, Steve?” Natasha asked, turning around and gave him a mild look.

Steve spluttered. It was not what he had meant—

“Relax, Steve,” Natasha breezily said, grinning at him. “Barnes is cute and all that, and I commend you on trying to set me up with him – but that’s for another life. Another time. Another reality. Isn’t that right, Ghost Rider?”

Steve turned towards where Natasha was looking at. Far be it that Ghost Rider was wearing his usual frightening visage of a skull-on-fire, the entity was once again, wearing the more youthful-looking face of Bucky.

“Another reality,” Ghost Rider echoed, nodding once.

“I’m going hate myself for this, but I have to agree with this timeline’s Barnes just this once. It’s fucking creepy to see his face like that,” Tony muttered as he appeared beside Natasha.

“How you holding up, Tony?” Steve asked.

“Just peachy, Rogers,” was all Tony answered, before directing his attention to the entity. “The hell do you want now, Ghost Rider?”

“Boss just wanted to check up on things,” the entity simply stated.

“Checking up on things,” Tony repeated before Steve could.

Steve shot a quick, slightly puzzled look at Tony. Tony was almost always unpredictably volatile with snappish words, but Steve thought his friend would have been a little more amenable or even ‘friendly’ towards Ghost Rider. The entity did, after all, release both Natasha and Tony from the stone so they could communicate and help him.

“Listen, asshole,” Tony continued, closing the distance and jabbing Ghost Rider with a finger in the center of his chest. “We got things covered here. The menagerie that your ‘boss’ is so worried about getting loose isn’t going to. So fuck off, because Romanov and I aren’t going to cut another deal with your ‘boss’.”

“Tony—” Steve began.

As concerned as Steve was, he wasn’t sure that all of Tony’s anger was due to Ghost Rider. Neither of them had spoken about what had happened in the silo when they had reunited in 2023. But Steve was sure that Tony still harbored some anger against Bucky. Ghost Rider’s current host was not doing Tony any favors.

However, the entity didn’t say a word and merely took a single step back, before transforming into what it actually looked like. A second later, Ghost Rider disappeared through a fire portal, leaving the three of them on the rooftop.

Steve still maintained the light illusion he had created with the reality stone. It masked his, along with Natasha and Tony’s presence from any person who happened to be on other rooftops.

“No, we’re not going to tell you the deal, Steve,” Natasha preempted his question.

Steve frowned. As much as he wanted to protest, he could tell that his two friend were united in keeping their lips sealed. “Then what about the barrier you maintain, Nat? The Power Stone said that it’s thinning faster, and that you need to kill to maintain its current state.”

“You really going to believe what a manifestation of the Power Stone said, Steve?” Natasha questioned.

Tony’s face was unreadable to Steve. The Power Stone’s manifestation had not happened again, but it hadn’t escaped Steve’s notice that Tony had not shown up as frequently while they had been in London. Steve didn’t know if it was because of the distance between Natasha and Tony, stretched resources within the Soul Stone, Tony trying to contain the stones, or something else.

He quietly sighed. “Just be careful, you two,” he cautioned. “The three of us are in this together. If you need my help, don’t hesitate to ask.”

“We won’t,” Natasha reassured him, “but, we’re dead, Steve. There’s not much you can do to help the dead. You’re not Charon ferrying on the river Styx.”

“We got this Rogers,” Tony stated, nodding in agreement. “Just stick to the plan, or plans on how you’re going to be returning the stones.”

Steve hesitated for a moment, but it was a moment too long.

“You do have plans for each stone, right Steve?” Natasha asked.

“Shit, Rogers,” Tony stated, shaking his head in slight exasperation. “You know that you can’t use the same disguise to at least put the Tesseract back, right? Hell, Rocket said that he had the Asgardians palace guards chasing after him when he retrieved the Reality Stone. How the hell are you going to put _that_ back?”

“I’ll think of a way,” Steve answered.

* * *

_Later that night…_

Steve was careful to set Thor’s hammer down on the shield lying on the table. Any sound, however soft it was, could possibly echo louder than usual within the facility. Though he doubted anyone outside of the facility could hear the clanks and cranks of whatever went on in here, he didn’t want to risk it.

“So you did find the shield.”

Steve turned around. Bucky was standing at the doorway into histemporary room. “My body was supposed to be next to it,” Steve answered, glancing at the shield as he heard him walk further into the room.

He glanced up as Bucky stopped before him. “I didn’t know Peggy instituted a 24-hour guard rotation. I thought the alarm and lock down system Howard and David set up was supposed to supplement the night guard until the 107th got here.”

“It is,” Bucky answered, tilting his head slightly.

The logical question would be to ask why Bucky was still here, but he didn’t. “Can’t sleep, right?” Steve asked. “Bed too soft, feels like a marshmallow, sinking right in. And just when you finally adjust, close your eyes and think you’re about to fall asleep, any noise or bad memory wakes you right back up. You think it’s a prelude to an attack.”

He saw the minute hardening of Bucky’s eyes for a brief moment, before his best friend glanced away, ashamed. “Romanov told you, didn’t she? That I can’t sleep. That when I do, it’s only for a couple of hours at a time?”

Steve shook his head. “She didn’t,” he answered. “You… we both had the same problem in the other timeline. Nightmares. Of the war, of what we’ve seen. I still sometimes struggle with it.”

“That why you’re not home with Peggy right now?” Bucky asked, returning his sharp gaze onto him.

“PTSD is what they called it in modern terms,” Steve said, lifting his hand with the wrist band up and glanced at it, before lowering it. “Shell shock. Some veterans of the wars after the one we fought in, found that talking to counselors and therapists—”

“I ain’t talking to some shrink, Steve,” Bucky spat out, angry. “I already—I am having this argument with Michael, and I’m not going to hear it from you as well.”

“I’m not asking you to, Buck,” Steve calmly answered. “I don’t know how you dealt with your nightmares in that timeline. My being on the run didn’t afford me a lot of options, so I did the next best thing. I wrote—”

“Down your memories and burned them,” Bucky finished up. “Romanov told me. I tried it. It didn’t work.”

Steve remained silent. There was no other advice he could offer Bucky. Wakanda had been the one to heal Bucky. When they had been briefly reunited before the battle against Thanos in 2018, Bucky never told him what Wakanda had done to help him find peace.

“I can’t leave this place until the device is complete, and the stones are returned,” he said after a few moments of silence, in an effort to steer away from the discussion about Bucky’s apparent insomnia.

“Hell of a way to live, Steve,” Bucky answered, shaking his head slightly.

“Only for a month or two,” Steve said, faintly smiling.

“Then, do you mind if I move in and share the space?” his best friend unexpectedly asked. “It’ll save the SSR some of their money. And, you won’t be stuck here alone.”

Steve couldn’t help but grinfor a brief moment, feeling happier. “Thanks. But wouldn’t you rather stay at the hotel? With Michael?”

He had said something wrong. Bucky immediately frowned, causing Steve to drop his grin. “Steve, what exactly are you saying?” came Bucky’s rather accusative question, stated in a defensive tone.

“I thought…” Steve began, then grimaced.

He hadn’t realized just how used to living in modern times, even if he missed the time period he had been from. Any person with certain predilections _had_ to hide it – the fact that there was no boundary for when it came to matters of the heart. It was still illegal in this time period—

“I’m sorry,” Steve said, realizing his mistake, as he looked away. “I shouldn’t have—”

“Michael has a cover to maintain, Steve,” Bucky quietly stated. “I have one too. That’s on top of this cover, and the cover for that cover. It’s not just convenience, or you being alone, that I’m asking to move here, Steve. It lessens the temptation between Michael and I not giving a rat’s ass about the illegality of what we are.”

As surprised as he was with Bucky’s indirect admission, Steve returned his gaze to Bucky and saw nothing but compassion in those mesmerizing eyes of his. Bucky rarely directly admitted to anything – always wrapping a grain of truth in tall tales. Steve remembered all the times he had been caught up in a grand, fun tale that Bucky had told him about.

As silver tongued as Bucky was, Steve knew that Bucky only kept things from him to protect him. Like before, and even now, he could see that it was difficult for Bucky to be open with him. Steve remembered just how difficult it had been for Bucky to admit to him that he, Bucky, had killed his own father to save him, Steve, and Steve’s mother.

Steve had to partially blame himself for some of the reluctance – for outright telling Bucky that he knew how Bucky felt about him – from the other timeline, no less. But, for all the tall tales, larger-than-life stories, and withholding of truth, Steve knew that his best friend had never maliciously lied to him.

Wordlessly, he nodded. “I’m sorry about that, Bucky,” he apologized again. “Guess I **had** gotten used to living in different times.”

Before his friend could say anything, Steve shook his head, saying, “You’re more than welcome to stay, Buck. I’d like and appreciate the company.”

“Thanks,” Bucky answered, shifting slightly from foot to foot as he briefly looked away.

Awkward silence hung between them, and Steve mentally winced. It was not quite an argument, but neither would Steve call it a disagreement. He also didn’t know why he suddenly felt a strange, swooping sensation in his stomach when Bucky returned his gaze onto him.

He deliberately cleared his throat. “Do you want to help me plan a reverse heist?” he asked in a clearer attempt to steer away from sensitive topics drowning in fraught waters.

Bucky merely raised an eyebrow, looking at him with some puzzlement. “Heist?”

Steve couldn’t help but grin at the unstated ‘Steve Rogers, who stands for truth, justice, and freedom, is planning a heist’. “Reverse heist,” he repeated. “The objects have already been stolen. They just need to be returned. And almost all of them require some sort of plan.”

“Not as simple as placing a pretty rock back where it used to be, eh?” Bucky asked, grinning as Steve gestured for him to follow him to the other table.

He brought the folder of sketches that he had been working on since settling down in this timeline forward. Opening it, he began to spread out the various scenes and people that he had been working on. While most of the full-figure portraits he had drawn of the Avengers and their allies were calmly poised, there were a few that he had drawn in action.

“I had a metal arm,” he heard Bucky murmur, pushing the sketch of himself – poised in action that was in the middle of firing a rifle – up next to the others in the row. “Different design, too.”

“It was a vibraninum arm,” Steve answered. “You told me that you had gotten used to living without an arm, but that because of what we faced…”

“This arm—” Bucky began, briefly touching his left arm, the metal husk hidden under clothing “—it’s vibranium as well. The same as your shield. I thought Stark had the only ore available from Wakanda. Where did Zola get this one?”

Steve remained silent. To tell Bucky was to reveal the Winter Soldier memories – and he was determined to never do so. He continued to silently distribute the drawings onto the table until he was done.

Gently placing a hand on Bucky’s left shoulder, Steve squeezed it for a brief moment. “Zola is dead, Bucky. He won’t be able to hurt you anymore.”

Bucky was silent for a few long seconds before nodding. “Yeah,” his best friend murmured.

“All right,” Steve said, taking a deep breath, before dragging the sketch of Camp Lehigh forward. “Tony and I went back to 1970 to retrieve the Tesseract from SHIELD. At this point in time, they were located at Camp Lehigh…”

* * *

_A few days later…_

There was one good thing about the rain, especially drearily cold, late-November early-December rain. It drove many people indoors. Less people meant less threats that Bucky had to watch for from his rooftop perch.

“Baker One, call in for shift change and com check,” Sousa’s voice rang clearly over the two-way radio piece he was wearing.

All agents and 107th members assigned to the Brooklyn facility had been outfitted with specialized, encrypted two-way radio system. The radios had been derived and modified further from those used by the Commandos during the war – by David no less. It was an experimental system, as it no longer used Tesseract components to power them, but modified dry-cell batteries.

When David had unveiled the new communications system to Steve and the others in private, Bucky had seen Steve, Natasha, and especially Tony’s eyes widen in surprise. Tony had then picked up the device and examined it closely enough that it was clear that the three had not expected such a small device to be invented now.

It shouldn’t have been a worry to Bucky, especially since he knew little about the other timeline, but David’s further modification was another mark of an accelerated timeline. Natasha’s words to him in his hotel room all those nights ago had come back to the forefront.

“ _This war… it’s just beginning, and I’m not talking about the stones. This ‘Cold War’, if the US and Soviet Union are able to remain calm… it can only be won in the shadows. Where you, the other Widows, myself, and countless of other spies live, breathe, fight, and… die.”_

The door to the rooftop that housed the facility, opened. Bucky glanced back to see DumDum approaching. To his surprise, David was following as well, but hung back to allow DumDum and him to perform a handover briefing.

“Nothing standing out at the moment,” Bucky said, unhooking the comm equipment as DumDum slung his own sniper rifle off his back and leaned it against the parapet of the rooftop.

“All’s quiet on a terrible day such as this,” DumDum said, taking the comm equipment from him. “Get warm and get some rest, Sarge.”

Bucky couldn’t help but chuckle. Despite not even being near the chain of command for the 107th anymore, DumDum was not the only former teammate of his to keep on addressing him with his former rank. Bucky didn’t mind – especially when he learned that the Commandos thought his new title of ‘Agent Barnes’ had a stuffy connotation.

“Stay warm, el-tee,” he answered, slinging his custom-made sniper rifle over his shoulder.

DumDum’s grumbles followed him as he left and approached David. It was clear that his friend wanted to talk to him. Since Philips had authorized the reopening of the Brooklyn facility, there had been so much to do that he hadn’t even had time to stop and say more than a ‘hello’ to David.

The brief day-and-a-half that he had spent in London after returning from completing Operation Midnight, hadn’t even afforded him to visit any of his friends within the office. He had been stuck in debrief meetings before being sent to New York.

“Been a while,” he couldn’t help but say as they went to the other side of the rooftop for some privacy. “Thank you for bringing my rifle, by the way.”

His sniper rifle had been custom-made and configured by David, when he had joined up with SSR-Europe. It had been the fulfillment of an old promise between them – made before Bucky had gone on that fateful mission in the Alps to capture Dr. Zola.

Bucky had left the rifle in the armory of SSR-Europe when he had been deployed on Operation Midnight. His mission then, had not afforded him to carry such a conspicuous weapon.

“Caroline doesn’t need any adjustments or further calibration, does she?” David asked, gesturing to the rifle.

Bucky shook his head. His first sniper rifle that he had used during the war had been named ‘Vera’. It had been named after his mother – in a more naive time of his knowledge of what his mother was. This current one was named ‘Caroline’. It was a name he liked, and would have wanted to name a daughter of his; if he ever chose to adopt, or have a child.

Given his current employment, it was highly unlikely that he would ever have a child. Thus, he treated his sniper rifle as if it were his own child – taking care of it with the love and care that he felt a daughter of his would have.

“She’s working perfectly,” he answered. “How have you been?”

“Well,” David answered, resting his arms on the short parapet, as he stared out into the grey skyline of New York. “Emily and I… I didn’t see us working out in the long-term. We catch up when we can, but she’s been dating this guy at an ad agency for over a year now.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Bucky said.

It was the truth – Emily Hattersfield had been David’s closest friend and confidante during the war. Bucky had advised that David pretend to date Emily to protect himself, due to David’s preferences for the company of men.

“Truth is, I had met someone around that time,” David said, glancing over and faintly grinning. “Literally ran into him when he had been presenting a scientific paper to the brass. His name was Alan. Worked at Bletchley Park during the war. That’s all I know of what he did.”

“Was,” Bucky carefully repeated, feeling glad that his friend had finally found someone, but slightly apprehensive.

“He recently took a position at Victoria University of Manchester,” David said. “I didn’t want to leave the job I had at the engineering labs. So it ended. But I am doing well, Bucky. You don’t have to worry.”

“I’ll try not to,” Bucky said. “But you know I will.”

“Mother-henning me won’t get me to work faster on your requests, Bucky,” David laughed. “MI-5 and MI-6 tasks are always priority.”

“Except for this, now,” he followed up.

“Except for this,” David repeated, nodding. Bucky saw him hesitate for a moment, before saying, “He rescued you, didn’t he?”

“Steve rescued both Michael and I,” Bucky said. “We were held in the same place.”

“How?”

“That’s not my story to tell, David,” Bucky answered.

He didn’t know how much Steve had told or shown Philips and David, but it was clear that Steve was holding back a lot of information. Not just from him, Peggy, or Michael – but everyone else as well. Bucky could only speculate that part of it was due to the enormous burden of the stones that Steve silently insisted he carry. No one had argued or attempted to alleviate Steve of that burden, yet – and Bucky was sure that Steve would never allow it to happen.

“I almost said ‘no’ to Mr. Stark,” David quietly admitted after a few moments of silence. “After everything, I didn’t want to work on some fantastical, new, and potentially devastating weapon he was constructing. In the name of apparent peace, no less.”

“If you don’t mind me asking, what made you say ‘yes’?” Bucky asked.

“He never said ‘I need your help’, when he showed me the blueprints,” David stated. “Not once. I don’t know if it was Michael being there, or otherwise. Those four words that he constantly said to me over the phone, were… not there… if you know what I mean.”

“Humility isn’t his strong suit,” Bucky stated.

“No,” David agreed. “It isn’t. This is the first time that I’ve seen him work on a project without the pomp and circumstance. It’s as if he truly understands just _**how**_ dangerous these stones that Steve has, are.”

“Are you getting along, down there?” he asked, slightly concerned.

It had happen two days ago, when Howard was orienting the newly arrived 107th, and SSR members, on the general layout of the main area of the laboratory. Beakers and other chemical items for the ‘serum’ cover had been set to the side. The mechanical aspects of the cover project were on the far side – disguising the true intent of building the time-traveling anchor.

Steve had not been present, due to obvious reasons. Bucky knew that he was holed up in his room on the far side of the main floor. It had a window built much like the main observatory room had – except that it had long, thick curtains drawn.

Yet, somehow, during the orientation for everyone, Howard had gotten into his head to ask him, Bucky about his arm. It had only been because Philips had called Howard in while Bucky had been unconscious and in the hospital in 1946, that Howard knew he had a false, but mechanically working limb. Philips had only disclosed that fact to him after the fact – Howard had only been there to verify that the arm was not explosive in nature.

Even before the intent of Howard’s question had made itself known or finished, Bucky had walked away. He didn’t want to hear the curiosity or desire to poke around in the arm – it reminded him too much of Zola.

Whatever had happened after that, was not known to him, but he was grateful that Peggy had assigned him to the rooftop rotation. As much as he wanted to remain inside for some of his shifts, he couldn’t tolerate being within the same building, much less the same floor as the inventor.

“At times,” David answered. “He shouldn’t have asked you about your arm, Bucky—”

“It’s all right,” he interrupted. “I don’t need to know what happened. I’ll ask Peggy for a shift change, when I’m certain I’m not going to punch him into a wall.”

“You and me both,” his friend admitted, shaking his head slightly. “There are times when that Tony fellow and him do not get along. Separately, they’re both tolerable to work with. But together, it is as if both want to show who is superior in intellect and ability. It’s why I’m up here, braving the miserable conditions. They’re having yet another ‘argument’ at the moment.”

“I can only imagine the noise,” Bucky couldn’t help but dryly state.

Of Tony, he wasn’t sure what to make of the man who was Howard’s son in the other timeline. It was clear to him that he had done something along the lines of ‘murder’ to be called that several times by the man. But he was glad that the mutual dislike that sat between them was enough that Tony barely interacted with him. Bucky much preferred Natasha as company.

“But, I do have to get back,” David said, sighing and pushing back from the edge.

“I’m going to the deli down the street to grab something,” Bucky said, as they entered the building and made their way down the stairs. “Want anything?”

Unlike the Headquarters, the Brooklyn facility did not have any ‘offices’ or space rented out in the floors above the entrance. While no longer an ‘antique’ store, Peggy had chosen a small casting/talent acquisition company as the front. If any one saw Howard walk in and out of the building, it would fit the story of the fledgling movie company Howard ran out in California.

To keep that cover, she had also instituted a random lights on-off for the upper floors. One or more of the agents were tasked to occasionally switch out the record of tap shoes or people practicing lines. When appropriate, the radio was blasted at full volume to give the appearance of the casting agency doing their work in vetting potential actors or actresses.

“Large cup of coffee, please?” David asked. “Howard hates the smell of that particular brew, and Tony doesn’t like it anywhere near his work area. Says is the amount of sugar that I pour into it, that makes it intolerably sticky, should I ‘accidentally’ spill it.”

“And here I thought you were above such petty tricks, David Brewster,” Bucky said, trying to contain his laughter.

“I learn from the best, Agent Barnes,” his friend cheekily answered.

They parted near the entrance within the shop. Lorraine was sitting at the counter, seemingly working through a casting list of people. She flicked her eyes up at both of them, before slipping a hand under the table to press the button to let David back into the facility.

Once the engineer was gone, Bucky slung his sniper rifle off back, and discreetly handed it to her. She slipped it under the table, securing it back into the front desk armory. Without another word to her, he left, braving the cold, dreary weather once again.

He didn’t get more than a block from the outer perimeter that the 107th had set around the facility, when he noticed something slightly strange. Being followed was an occupational hazard that a few federal agents dealt with. It was a city – and there was still the occasional curious person, mob boss, or distressed person who gravitated towards an authority figure. Most agents weren’t trained like he had been.

Bucky did not project anything of the sort, and walked among the crowd as a passerby – innocuous and non-threatening. He walked as if he were tired of the long shifts of office work he had to deal with day in, and day out. All the while, he kept a sharp eye on his surroundings – and it was because of that, that the strangeness caught his eye.

It was the glimpse of a woman down an alleyway, and turning left into another alleyway – opposite of the direction he was walking – that caught his eye. She was bundled up against the elements. Plain coat from what he had caught a glimpse of, woolen hat pulled over her hair, and looking as frumpy and unassuming as possible.

It was not the way she was dressed though; it was the way she deliberately walked.

One-and-a-half strides disappearing into the alleyway was enough for Bucky to discern that her walk was not natural. He couldn’t tell if she had been injured, or something else, but it didn’t sit well with him. Curious, he slipped out of the crowds and quietly made his way down the alleyway.

As soon as he turned the corner, he caught another glimpse of her – and followed.

* * *

“Ma’am and sirs.”

Steve looked up, as Tony, Peggy, and Michael fell silent in their discussion on how to return the Tesseract to 1970’s SHIELD, without Steve getting caught. They turned towards the source of the voice, only to see that David was standing before them, holding one of the blueprints.

“Yeah, kid?” Tony asked before Peggy could answer.

Steve threw Tony a look. While David still had an appearance that was on the slightly younger side, Steve knew that the engineer was definitely not a ‘kid’ or deserved such a nickname. But it seemed that David had not taken offense to the nickname, and merely stepped forward, unfolding the blueprint.

“Howard told me that all diagrams relating to explosives were removed,” David stated, before pointing his finger at a certain area within the blueprint. “He’s working on other things, and gave me this set to work on. That area is wired up to be an explosive. If overloaded correctly.”

Howard was currently working on the far side of the laboratory, seemingly concocting a chemical mixture for the cover. The inventor had not heard David’s quiet statement.

Tony’s face was blank. Steve internally winced, David had pointed out one of the hidden explosives that Tony had him disguise within the blueprints. All external, visible, and obvious forms of explosives had been removed from the blueprints, but he and Tony had agreed to leave the hidden ones in.

“He’s already built three sections that contain hidden explosives, sirs,” David stated after a moment, tone still neutral.

“Leave it be, David,” Steve quietly stated.

“All right, si-Steve,” David answered, then seemingly took a deep breath before turning his attention to Tony. “Would you allow me to modify this section to have it run parallel instead of serial, sir? It guarantees that the resultant explosion will completely destroy the piece, instead of a partial destruction.”

A most curious of expressions crossed Tony’s face. “Yeah, sure kid,” Tony stated, getting up. “Let me watch and help?”

“You’re welcome to, sir,” David answered, smiling faintly.

“Stop calling me, sir?” Tony asked, as Steve watched the two walk away.

“Stop calling me ‘kid’ then, _sir_ ,” David retorted.

Steve couldn’t help the grin that quirked up the edges of his lips.

* * *

_Black Widow._

The fact that it was only by the height and gait that he had identified Dottie Underwood surprised him slightly. But even more concerning was the fact that it looked like she was injured.

To any other person, her movements still looked fluid, but to Bucky, there was a slight emphasis of weight being put on her left side. If he weren’t aware of how she fought and moved, he wouldn’t have noticed it.

But he hadn’t outright followed her as soon as he made the connection. Instead, Bucky had quietly and discreetly intercepted her – just before the ground perimeter for the Brooklyn facility began. He had then taken her unconscious body to an apartment that he knew was not occupied.

It had been the apartment he and Steve had shared before the outbreak of war. The entire building had been condemned two years ago, but nothing had been done about tearing down the place yet. Squatters and homeless people now lived in it. No one had batted an eye to him bringing an unconscious woman, slung over his shoulder, with him.

During some of the nights in which he couldn’t sleep, or was not otherwise engaged with his duties at Headquarters, Bucky had wandered down to this part of Brooklyn. He had hoped the memories of more peaceful days he had shared with Steve would help him find some peace from his nightmares.

Instead, he had ran into the homeless squatters within the old apartment building. At first, they had been incredibly wary of him. But night after night, he returned – some times with bottles of alcohol, or even a sandwich to help tide their hunger. They got used to him, and he got used to them.

While some of the squatters were not benign, most of them were content to find some decent shelter in the coming winter, within the condemned building. A couple of them even did him the favor of keeping other squatters from occupying the apartment he had shared with Steve – after Bucky kept returning to it. There was a silent, mutual understanding between all of them.

At the moment, it was cold in the apartment, but Bucky wasn’t overly concerned. He was sitting on one of the two chairs that was left of the non-broken furniture within the apartment. The table that he remembered Steve working at was broken in half, and the bunk bed they shared shattered from something.

As Dottie Underwood began to stir, Bucky shifted slightly to sit more forward. He watched as she carefully woke up – feigning grogginess that was almost convincing. She was testing her bonds, and could not fully conceal her surprise when she realized that she was not bound hand or feet.

Bucky had deliberately left her unbound – and had merely placed her slumped in the chair opposite of him. As tempted as he was to interject or say a word, he remained silent, and continued to observe her.

She was well-trained; he could see elements of commonality between her, Romanov, and his own mother. His mother had been the apparent first female agent to hold the title of Black Widow. But he knew that his mother had never called herself that. It wasn’t until after the fall of the Imperial throne that the moniker had been given to the women who survived the training.

But when she snapped her striking eyes open, she didn’t lunge at him, as he thought she would. Instead, her eyes focused on him, before sliding ever so slightly to his left – settling on his metal arm.

There was clear fear in her eyes, but it was not because of the arm. Bucky found it odd, but he wasn’t about to question her without Peggy present. She was the one who still insisted that Dottie Underwood was defecting, and at the moment, that theory was proving strong.

Of course, he knew that it could be a complete ruse. There could be several other Black Widows standing right outside, and he’d be none the wiser. He knew how quiet they could be, when they wanted to sneak up and assassinate their targets. For all he knew, Underwood being injured was just bait for him – or Peggy.

But, Bucky was willing to extend a sliver of trust towards Underwood’s possible defection.

“Natasha.”

He didn’t expect Natasha to actually show up, but managed to keep the surprise from showing as she just _appeared_. Out of thin air; right in front of Dottie Underwood, frighting her enough that she yelped – her first and only sound since waking up.

“James,” Natasha greeted in kind, then raised an eyebrow at Underwood. “I see you’ve been busy.”

“Got a minute to watch over her?”

“Still going to involve Carter in this?” she questioned.

Bucky shrugged, and took his coat with him. He had to be careful to not reveal Natasha’s last name – lest Underwood decided to have a change of heart from defecting. He was already uneasy that he had spotted her closer than he liked to the Brooklyn facility.

“Her case, Natasha,” he simply said, and left.

* * *

“Asgardians.”

Steve nodded.

The planning for the reverse heist to put the Tesseract back in 1970’s SHIELD had gotten nowhere. Even with the layout of Camp Lehigh and the underground facility drawn to the extent of what he and Tony knew about it, it seemed impossible for Steve to get back into the facility without more guards being alerted.

MPs had already been on his tail the first time he had been there. He had barely been able to escape up to the surface. Even then, he had taken shelter next to some large vehicles, pretending he was inspecting them while waiting for Tony.

He put that aside, and pulled the sketches that he had of the Asgardians from 2023 forward. Of Valkyrie, he had not finished his sketch of her yet. He placed the rough sketch of her next to the sketches of Thor, Loki, and the regular guardsman.

“They look like us,” Michael exclaimed, pouring over the sketches. “Who’s this supposed to be?”

“Valkyrie,” Steve answered. “Haven’t finished the sketch yet, but she’s the new Queen of Asgard. Thor stepped down from leading his people after the battle.”

“Valkyrie? As in Wagner’s Ride of the Valkyries?” Michael questioned, fascinated.

“That’s Thor’s brother, Loki. Adopted, according to Thor,” Steve continued to explain.

“His species is actually Frost Giant,” Tony spoke up from where he was working with Howard and David on a component for the time-traveling device. “Got Thor drunk enough one night for him to tell me that.”

Steve couldn’t help but turn slightly and stare at Tony. It was impressive – and a little improbable, in his opinion – that Tony had managed to get Thor drunk enough to have that happen. Of all the silly contests that the Avengers had challenged each other to before they disbanded in 2016, drinking challenges were the most common.

Of course, Steve always deigned to participate, citing that he couldn’t get drunk because of the serum. While a small part of him missed the camaraderie that came with participation, he ultimately found it entertaining to watch his friends become more and more incoherent as the challenge went on into the wee hours of the night.

“Don’t look at me like that, Rogers. I passed out after that,” Tony stated.

Steve merely shook his head, as he returned his attention to the maps and diagrams spread across the table. Howard’s bark of laughter accompanied his return to work, and was followed by some squawks of protests from Tony. He caught David rolling his eyes in exasperation, before the engineer focused on his own work.

“Anyways,” Steve said, nodding towards the rough diagram of the halls of Asgard. “Not the point. Rocket leading a contingent of the guards away is good, but the problem is—”

“Returning the Reality Stone, Aether, or whatever it’s actual form is, into Dr. Foster,” Peggy finished up, her chin resting in her hands, while her elbows propped her up on the surface of the table.

“Yeah,” Michael voiced in agreement.

“It needs to be inside of Jane, for the plan that Thor executed with Loki’s help, to work,” Steve said, shaking his head. “Jane will be freed from it, but it was only through her help and her work that Thor was able to completely defeat the Dark Elves. I don’t know of any other way it can happen.”

He really did not want to do that to Jane, but to not return the Reality Stone in its state would potentially cause the timeline to splinter. Considering the aftermath of what he had seen happened in Greenwich, the Dark Elves were a threat that could not remain.

“Can the device be placed near Jane?” Peggy asked, reaching forward to take the cylindrical item that had drawn the Reality Stone out of Jane, and turned it into a solid. She examined it for a few moments before setting it back down.

Steve had withdrawn the cylinder from another compartment. Out of all the containment chambers that carried the stones, he only had the ones for the Power and Reality stones. The staff Loki had used for the Mind Stone, along with the cube that contained the Space Stone were destroyed in 2023.

“One way manifold, in or out,” Steve said, shaking his head slightly. “It needs to be depressed for the stone to turn back into liquid, and injected into a host.”

“That’s… troubling—” Peggy began.

The clicking heels of Lorraine approaching caused the three of them to pause. There was a clear look in the former spy-secretary’s eyes that indicated that the message or whatever it was, was for Peggy alone. Wordlessly, Peggy stepped away.

Before Steve could fully return his attention to the diagrams and sketches, he heard Peggy approach. Turning slightly, he smiled as she slipped one of her hands into his and gently squeezed it.

“I’ll hopefully be back soon,” she said.

He nodded. He knew that long ago, he would have asked what drew her attention away, but since living this life here, he found it better for both of their peace of mind if he didn’t inquire. He still worried about her, but she was strong and knew her limits.

Her posting in this position required her to be more than just a senior SSR agent. Steve could see elements of ‘Director’ within her at the moment. And that was only because he knew how she operated as Director of SHIELD – from another reality.

Another time.

Another life.

“Stay safe,” he said, and watched her leave.

~~~

Peggy was not that surprised that it was Bucky who was waiting for her at the front of the ‘casting agency’ lobby. “Arm up,” was all he said, holding out two cartridges for her Walther.

She already had cartridges, but quickly realized that the bullets within the two cartridges were not the typical ones. They were the ones coated in vibranium. Either a call had come in for the shadow creatures appearing yet again, or Bucky had found something—

Yet, Bucky himself was not holding himself in high alert – just caution.

Working with him in the past few weeks, and during the war, had accustomed her to how he behaved in a non-verbal fashion. He had found something, but wasn’t sure if it was a threat yet. Calling it in had not been an option, as the public phones were not secured. Neither did he want to start a panic among those guarding the facility.

She took the two cartridges, and slipped them into the pockets of her winter coat that hung on the coat rack, before donning her coat. “If neither Barnes or I report back within the hour, lock down the facility,” she ordered Lorraine.

“Understood, ma’am,” Lorraine answered, settling down at her station, calm and composed.

Following Bucky out, Peggy was slightly surprised at just how crowded it was on the streets. But then again, it was the end of the workday, and everyone was trying to get home. It made for blending, and walking to wherever Bucky was taking her, easier.

She slipped and hooked her arm around Bucky’s right one – only to continue to blend in with the crowds. It was easier for anyone who was a potential spy for a foreign country, or a part of the threat assessment Bucky still hadn’t completely vetted, to think the two were just a couple.

Steadily, she could feel Bucky gently tug on her arm to lead her in the direction of where he had found the potential threat. Their calm gait soon carried them beyond the crowds, and wound them around various alleyways in Brooklyn.

Soon, the smell of sulfur began to saturate the air. They were approaching the shipyards – or somewhere close to the shipyards. The last corner they turned led them to a fence that surrounded a building. There were clear signs that the building was condemned and slated for tear down, but the notices were about two years old.

Bucky unhooked their arms, ducking under a loosened area of the fence. She followed, and they climbed the stairs until they got to the third floor. Bucky entered the apartment first, and she heard him softly sigh, shaking his head.

“She’s still here, Barnes,” Peggy heard Natasha surprisingly say, as she followed him in, and stepped to the side.

Natasha was standing at what looked to be the threshold between this main area within the apartment and a tiny bedroom. The former Black Widow stepped to the side, and Peggy’s eyes widened in surprise.

Dottie Underwood stepped out.

“Peggy,” Dottie simply greeted.

There was no arrogance, anger, or resentment within those eyes of hers. It was what Peggy remembered of Dottie, the last time they had fought, and she had fallen into the hangar. Dottie looked calm, but fearful as well, and was clearly favoring her left side.

Peggy flicked her eyes towards Bucky for one moment – somehow her friend had cornered, captured, or done something to isolate Dottie. There was also no screeching noise, strange fog, or the shadow creatures jumping out at them.

The fact that the last two times had the SSR’s firefight against the creatures had abruptly stopped as soon as Dottie disappeared, should have given her good cause to dismiss defection. But, Peggy was determined not to give up on her theory. It was all because of how desperate Dottie had been when they had fought.

Peggy knew what it felt like, to have a world torn down – to be cast down into the depths of despair with the loss of belief. She had acutely felt and experienced it when she thought Steve had truly died. It was for the memory of Steve and what he had stood for, that she had picked herself back up – determined to continue his work in his name.

Dottie had her world torn away from her in the aftermath of Ivchenko’s machinations. Peggy wanted to steer her right. It was easy to find something worth dying for, but it was harder to find something worth living for.

“Dottie,” she answered in kind.

Peggy was still well aware that her ideals were not always reality. She was not always right, but she hoped to be – with Dottie. At the present, Dottie didn’t seem to pay much attention to Natasha, who hadn’t moved from where she was, as she took a seat.

“The Winter Soldier protects you,” Dottie said, glancing over at Bucky. “I’m glad.”

Peggy glanced at Bucky. She had never heard that nickname for him before. But neither did he didn’t give any indication otherwise about the moniker.

Seeing that it was going to go nowhere, she sat opposite of her, in the room’s only other chair. Bucky remained behind her, but wasn’t looming as he could have been. Like Natasha, he was watching this exchange carefully.

“Do you want to defect?” she bluntly asked.

Dottie remained silent. Without an outright admission of yes, or no, she couldn’t go to Thompson and ask him for resources to help Dottie. As the silence stretched into long minutes, Peggy wondered if she had assumed wrong—

“I want to help,” Dottie suddenly stated before Peggy could gather her coat around her and stand up.

“So you do want to defect,” Peggy stated.

“I want to help,” Dottie repeated, eyes hardening slightly in insistence.

Peggy frowned. “But not defect. A Confidential Informant working behind the lines.” She paused for a moment, thinking back to her notes about Dottie, and what Bucky had told her about his encounter with Dottie.

“Will you give us the names of the twenty-one other Black Widows?” she asked.

“I will, but they will be useless to you, Peggy,” Dottie answered. The smile on her lips was anything but kind. “You have a traitor in your midst, and this traitor has been passing information to the Motherland for the past two years.”

~*~*~*~


	12. Resonance Cascade – Part 2

**Chapter 7:** **R** **esonance Cascade – Part 2**

“A traitor,” Peggy stated, frowning slightly. “Who?”

“Someone close enough to be able to pass messages back and forth to the Motherland,” Dottie answered.

“That’s horseshit—” Bucky began.

“Someone who isn’t aware of their actions, but has been secretly ordered to carry them out—” Dottie interrupted.

“A sleeper agent?” Peggy questioned, as an uneasy feeling bloomed in her stomach.

The first time the SSR had encountered an agent who had stolen into them, had been during the war. In mid-to-late 1943, Alistair Brooke, a code breaker who had been recruited from Bletchley Park, had been revealed to be a HYDRA spy. He had been killed by both her and Bucky while trying to escape in the chaos that he had caused.

The second time had been when Steve and Bucky had been briefly captured and held behind enemy lines in Estonia. When they had escaped, they had also freed a woman named Marta. Marta had been ‘held’ in HYDRA facility where the two were. She had somehow received orders from the Soviets working with HYDRA, to attempt to kill Steve, the Commandos, and her, when they had returned to the HYDRA facility to find more information. Bucky had killed her.

The third, and thankfully failed attempt had been through Peggy’s own brother. Michael and what was left of the SOE platoons had been found in another HYDRA facility. It came to light that Ivchenko had tried to manipulate and embed compulsion commands into Michael to turn him into an active, but more secret and insidious sleeper agent. The extent of Ivchenko’s grasp with the ring he used had not come to light until after the Soviet scientist and head of Leviathan, had been captured.

Three times. HYDRA had tried three times, and failed, due to the SSR's vigilance. Two of those times had been with Soviet help. While the Allied forces had counted on the Soviet Union to be amenable to fighting against the Axis powers, that alliance was only because it was mutually beneficial. The nuclear tests, Berlin Airlift, and other incidents that had happened since after the war only highlighted the divide between the West and East.

“Prove it,” Peggy stated before Bucky could intervene again.

“I don’t know the traitor’s name,” Dottie answered.

“You don’t know,” Bucky scoffed, shaking his head. “That’s rich. Coming from a Leviathan agent of your calibre. Didn’t like the flood that drove you from home, didn’t you, Black Widow?”

Dottie’s heated glare on Bucky was brief, before she focused her attention back on Peggy. “Nine months after you captured Dr. Ivchenko, the training facility where you encountered some of my younger sister-Widows was burned to the ground. Those girls who did not pass the training by that date were locked in the building, and perished in the fire.”

“What?” Peggy stated, horrified.

“We didn’t find bodies,” Bucky stated, as Peggy glanced over to see him folding his arms across his chest.

“Because my sisters got word from the traitor that you and the woman you were working with, were coming,” Dottie answered, eyes focused on Bucky when she stated that. “They gave you nothing – not even a scrap of a burnt hairband.”

“That still doesn’t prove—” Bucky began, anger clear in his tone.

“You think you and the woman you were working with destroyed everything?” It was Dottie’s turn to scoff.

“Agent Barnes,” Peggy warned, before Bucky could rashly say another word. Returning her attention to Dottie, she calmly stated, “There’s very little here that we can discern as truth or lie. You are not telling us anything that we do not know. What proof do you have?”

“Peggy,” Dottie began, shaking her head slightly. “I don’t have a lot of information – not since I’ve been on the run here. But, I can tell you that this sleeper agent had been embedded during the war, and is still among you. The commands to truly active this agent, replacing his or her personality with a different one, are spoken in Russian.”

“What are the commands?” Peggy asked.

Dottie tilted her head ever so slightly, giving both her and Bucky a shrewd look. She then turned slightly in her chair to look at Natasha, before returning her attention forward. “Dr. Ivchenko knows that both you and Agent Barnes know Russian. Do you truly _want_ me to state it right now?”

“Yes,” both she and Bucky answered at the same time.

Peggy was glad that both she and Bucky were of the same thought. If there was indeed an embedded, unknown sleeper agent who had been hiding in the SSR since the war, it narrowed down the list to a handful of people here.

She could not speak for SSR-Europe though. The summary personnel file that Thompson had given her showed that most, if not all of SSR-Europe were staffed with several personnel who had worked in the original branch during the war.

Should either she or Bucky suddenly and unwittingly turn, the Natasha would be able to stop either of them with a simple touch. But if either of them were not the sleeper agent—

“Дождь – вселенной голоса,” Dottie suddenly stated.

For a few seconds, silence enveloped them. Peggy glanced over towards Bucky, seeing him do the same. She frowned, feeling no different than she had been – cold, surprised at Dottie’s admission, and wishing that she could shake the feeling that Dottie was speaking the truth. A glance over towards Natasha showed that the woman had not moved – she did not see either her or Bucky as a threat.

“Rain, the voices of the universe?” Bucky questioned after a few more seconds of silence. “That’s a very odd phrase and choice of words. Almost song-like.”

Peggy had to agree, but there was conviction in Dottie’s tone that was unshaken, no matter how much they tried to doubt her words. Peggy could sense that she had more information, even if she claimed to not have much from being on the run.

“Agent Barnes, if I could speak to you outside, please.”

“Ma’am,” was all Bucky acknowledged, before stepping out after her.

Peggy didn’t immediately speak and followed Bucky until they were on the ground floor again. “Take her to a more secured location, Bucky. I’ll return to make sure the alert isn’t sounded.”

“You believe her?” Bucky asked.

“Do you?” she countered.

“She might be scaring us with the whole embedded, sleeper agent activated with that ridiculous phrase,” Bucky stated. “Ivchenko was her handler, Peggy. He knew what happened to the SSR and SOE during the war.”

“And yet, it’s not a phrase that you would think someone would use,” she pointed out. “I want to see where this goes.”

There was reluctance written all over Bucky’s face, but he nodded. “It’s going to have to be a temporary location, until you or I can find something more secure.”

“Agreed,” she answered. “And for now, we keep it among ourselves. And ask Natasha to do so as well.”

“Will do,” he agreed. “If you don’t mind, I’d rather have Natasha escort you to the facility. See if you can get her to tell us any further information about Black Widows.”

“Yes,” she said. “And please, be careful yourself, Bucky.”

* * *

_A few minutes later…_

“< _Why should we believe you?_ >”

Bucky hadn’t so much hissed the words in Russian, but rather growled them. Underwood’s reaction was telling, but he was not in the mood to analyze it at the moment.

“Well aren’t you the two-faced knight in shining armor,” she answered in as flippant of a tone, as possible.

He could see right through the facade and bad acting. “< _Where the sun shines on the knight, there is always a shadow. Tell me why we should fucking believe you, and not turn you in—_ >”

“< _Then kill me, Winter Soldier._ >” she suddenly said. “< _Do you duty and kill me now, before my sisters tear me from limb to limb._ >”

The retort was on the edge of his lips; the lunging action beginning to ripple through his muscles to scare her into confessing, but he did neither. It was her eyes – the readiness to die – that made him pause.

She was willing – wanting – to be killed right here and now; rather than be hunted down by the other Widows. She thought a simple shot through the heart or head was better than whatever the Soviets were going to do her.

“< _Compassion._ >” she sneered. “< _Sentiment. You wear them poorly, Winter Soldier._ >”

“< _Who the hell is this Winter Soldier?_ >” he asked, unable to hold back most of the snarl.

“< _Certainly not you._ _You are more Wolf Spider than Winter Soldier._ >”

Frustrated, and seeing that he was going to get nowhere with his own questions, he said, “Stay here. I’ll be back in a minute.”

She gave him a thin smile. He left without another word to her, and went down the three flights of stairs. Turning the corner, he pounded on the door to the first floor apartment. It opened a moment later. Wordlessly, Bucky thrust a small wad of bills towards the squatter before pointing to the scarf the squatter had wrapped around his head. The squatter handed the scarf over after taking the bills.

Bucky returned to the third floor. He entered the apartment and found Dottie still sitting where he had left her. Tossing the scarf at her, he ignored her look of pure disgust and gave her a minute to wrap it around her head.

He wasn’t quite forcible in yanking her up, but neither was he gentle. As strikingly beautiful as she was, she was a dangerous threat that he needed to make sure that he had a good grip on her arms. He needed to make sure that she did not try to steal anything from either him, or anyone else they would pass in the streets, to use against him.

It took them a few short minutes to depart the apartment and end up on one of the main streets. The crowds had lessen quite a lot, as it was near the end of the evening rush hour. Yet, Bucky didn’t release his tight grip on Underwood, and continued to steer her towards the seedier section of Brooklyn.

He had only been to this part of Brooklyn once – before the war – and certainly without Steve’s knowledge. Considering how well put-together and elegant-looking Dottie Underwood was, enemies trying to find her in a run-down, almost whore-house like hotel would be last in their places to search. It was the best that he could do for now, as it would take a few days to secure a better location for a secret safe house.

Thankfully, Underwood kept her mouth shut and plastered a rather pleasant, if not slightly drunk expression on her face. The hotel manager gave both of them merely a glance, before reaching over in his booth to pluck a set of keys out.

“Three days,” Bucky stated, while shoving a rather fat wad of bills towards the hotel manager.

“Room 221,” the manager said, handing the keys over. “Laundromat is two doors down.”

“Thanks,” he said.

“Come on, sugar,” Underwood simpered at nearly the same time in a high-pitched, breathy tone.

For a few moments, Bucky allowed her to lead him up the stairs. Once they were out of view of the manager, Bucky immediately took control again. It didn’t take them long to arrive and enter the room. As soon as the door closed, Bucky let her go, pushing her away from him.

He stood by the door, watching her unravel the scarf and toss it across the room in disgust. Before he could open his mouth to set the temporary terms of her ‘help’ and possible defection within the hotel room, she turned to face him.

“Is this the part—” she began, sauntering towards him “—where we give our neighbors a symphony of moans, or do you really show me just how tame you are with your… compassion.”

She had placed her hands lightly on either side of his chest, under his arms, but did not unbutton his coat, or slip them inside. Where she had placed her hands was where he had his gun and cartridges holstered – on either side. Bucky knew that she could feel the outline of both.

“Dangerous foreplay is not my thing, darling,” he said, plucking both of her hands off of him, as if he were prying a cat away.

She briefly smiled at him, unkind and unnerving. “< _Is she forbidden fruit?_ >” she suddenly asked in Russian. “< _A test by your handlers to resist_ _great beauty?_ _Or a test to see if you’re able to_ _ **rise**_ _to the occasion?_ _On command?_ >”

Underwood gave him another thin smile. “<’ _Natasha’._ _Her name_ _has a_ _pleasant_ _ring to it. Her assets are certainly lending her a generosity_ _unseen before—_ >”

“Guess I’m interrupting the foreplay,” Natasha’s unexpected, but wholly welcomed interruption cut Underwood off from whatever else she was going to say.

Bucky immediately used the sudden jump of surprise from Underwood to push her further away from him. Natasha’s arrival meant that Peggy had made it back to the Brooklyn facility unharmed. Though he was curious as to how exactly she knew he was here, he pushed that thought to the side.

“Didn’t expect you to like the talkative ones, though, James,” Natasha continued to say, giving Underwood a mild look.

Either Natasha had told the current Black Widow what she was, or Underwood had sensed that Natasha wasn’t exactly… human. Or alive, in a strange sense.

Bucky watched as Underwood carefully navigated around Natasha, and stopped near the bed. Underwood’s gaze was sharp, calculating, and focused solely on Natasha. He was apparently less of a threat than she was to her.

“How many days?” Natasha breezily asked, shrugging as Bucky saw her turn her attention back onto him.

“Three,” he answered, knowing that she was asking about how many days he had paid for, for the room. “I’ll drop by with some food in a few.”

“Good,” she answered, nodding once. “I wasn’t going to feed her anyways.”

Seeing that there was nothing else to discuss, Bucky left the keys to the hotel room on the rickety dresser, and left. If Dottie Underwood was serious about helping them and giving them information, then a few days in a hotel such as this was the least she could put up with. If not, then she was free to run into the wind – and let her own fate be decided.

Either way, Bucky had gleaned another piece of information: she knew something of his time behind enemy lines. Something about whatever this ‘Wolf Spider’ was – and its link to ‘Winter Soldier’. Both were pieces of information that he had missed collecting, or destroying during Operation Midnight.

* * *

_Brooklyn Facility…_

“So, is there any chance that you’ll allow a tourist to come with you?”

Steve didn’t know why he had been anticipating such a question, but it made sense to have come from Michael. His brother-in-law had a sense of adventure that was as vast, if not more than Peggy’s sense of curiosity. He couldn’t help but grin for a brief moment.

“I don’t have enough Pym Particles to carry everyone through several round trips,” he answered, giving Michael a sympathetic smile. “Sorry.”

“Pym Parti—?” Michael began.

His brother-in-law didn’t get to finish his question as the main doors on the second floor walkway that led directly into to the laboratory opened. Steve looked up to see Peggy walk in, followed by Bucky who was holding a bag that looked not quite like a takeout bag.

“Coffee for everyone,” Bucky said, setting the bag down, and passed out the drinks. “And a special ordered one for you, David.”

“Thanks,” the engineer answered.

Steve did not miss the withering look that Tony had given David, before hearing Tony mutter, “Keep that candy-guise coffee away from my workspace.”

In response, David merely snorted in laughter, before taking his cup back to where he was working. Steve wasn’t fast enough to place his attention elsewhere as Tony caught him looking at him mildly.

“What, Steve?” Tony said, shaking his head slightly in exasperation. “He puts **four spoonful of sugar** in his coffee. And I’m not talking about teaspoons! Who the hell does that—”

Steve sipped his own cup, shrugging slightly before saying, “Dunno, Tony. Maybe he’s just a sweet guy.”

That got a couple of chuckles around the table, followed by outright laughter from David. Even Howard was unable to contain his snort of laughter. Tony’s muttered, “Fucking hate you, Rogers. Forgot how much of a troll you were,” made it even better.

Steve couldn’t help the slightly smarmy smile that quirked up his lips.

“Anything we need to worry about up there?” Michael asked a few moments later, as the four of them settled around the table.

“Nothing to be worried about,” Peggy answered, shaking her head slightly. “Just some law enforcement activities close to the perimeter.”

Peggy didn’t elaborate, and Steve didn’t expect her to. Michael’s assignment as David’s bodyguard was an actual assignment. Unless there was any real threat, anything the SSR or 107th personnel who guarded the facility would stay within SSR knowledge. Steve was confident that Peggy would warn them in advance – if possible – of any dangers.

“Hey, Barnes,” Howard’s approach drew their attention towards the inventor. “I’m sorry for what I said to you.” Howard continued to say, stopping next to where Bucky sat around the table full of sketches and building diagrams.

Steve watched as Bucky took one look at the hand that Howard offered in apology, eyes narrowed ever so slightly. While Steve hadn’t been there, he had been watching from his room that overlooked the main floor. All he had seen was Bucky abruptly walking away, Howard looking slightly baffled, and Sousa and several of the 107th glaring at Howard.

It wasn’t until Peggy had told him that Howard had put his foot in his mouth with regards to Bucky’s metal arm, that Steve felt slightly angry at Howard. Even if one did not know how Bucky got his metal arm, it had been utterly rude of Howard to say what he had said.

“It was rude of me, and I wasn’t thinking at all, when I said those words,” Howard continued to prattle on.

As much as Steve could see that Howard was digging a hole by not shutting up after his initial apology, Steve did not intervene. This was between Howard and Bucky, and Steve would always take Bucky’s side when it came to this – no matter what.

“I can’t ever take them back, but I can only say that I’m sorry. And that I will never, ever mention it again to you,” Howard finished up.

The silence that fell between all of them was uncomfortable. However, just as Howard was about to withdraw his peace offering handshake, Bucky said, “It’s not me you should be apologizing to, Stark. It’s every single man, woman, and child out there who weren’t as lucky as I was to receive a _working_ false limb. You want to make a better difference in the world? Help them. Help them regain the life they lost because of injury.”

Bucky jabbed his right hand at his gloved and covered left arm. “Whomever created and grafted this arm onto me is as mechanically minded as you are. Be better, than profiting off the greed of those who want nuclear war, Stark.”

Loving warmth bloomed and expanded ten-fold in Steve’s heart in response to Bucky’s statement. His best friend was not always the most eloquent, or diplomatic with words, but this… it was a masterpiece. It was similar to the words that he had wished he had said to Tony when the Avengers had first been thrown together on the Helicarrier – but not under the influence of the Mind Stone.

Howard seemed stunned by the words, blinking several times, before snapping out of it. “Um...” Howard began, but decided it was better not to continue to dig the hole he was in. “Yeah…”

Bucky didn’t shake Howard’s offered hand, but as Howard withdrew the offering, Steve saw his best friend nod once. There was no forgiveness for Howard’s words, but Steve could see that there was at least some understanding between the two. He didn’t think Bucky would accept and forgive Howard for his words until Howard decided to go into the medical prosthesis field.

Silently, and looking slightly cowed, Steve saw Howard return to where the time-traveling device was. The noise and discussion between the engineers started up again, and Steve returned his attention to his own task at hand.

“You all right?”

Michael had asked that question. Steve saw his brother-in-law place a comforting hand on Bucky’s shoulder, squeezing it gently in reassurance before letting go.

Bucky shrugged, and silently returned his attention on one of the diagrams of the New Jersey base in 1970. “Anyone consider going through the vents?” Bucky asked after a few moments.

Steve couldn’t help but share a look with Peggy and Michael. Out of everything they discussed, none of them had thought of that. But, this was SHIELD, and for all of their engineering and scientific prowess, there was a chance that someone thought of that.

But, then Steve remembered how Zola’s databank area looked. There were enormous gratings covering either tunnels or the miles of electrical wiring that was needed to power Zola’s brain on a tape.

Tony had drawn what the area where the Tesseract and other items of high security interest were kept. To keep the system that contained them powered, it would most likely require a large amount of electricity and wiring.

“Maybe—” Steve began.

“Wait, what are you doing?!” Tony squawked loud enough to draw all of their attention towards him.

Steve thought he saw David pouring some of the coffee into some component of the time-traveling device, but all further protests from Tony had fallen silent. Instead, all he and everyone heard from Tony was a humming noise.

“Tony?” Steve questioned, as Howard went over to see what had happened.

“Wait a minute...” Tony began, ignoring everyone else except for whatever was happening in that area. “That’s… I read about a derivation of this in a paper for my Master’s. Fissile materials… but the experiment was different… and not as benign as this—”

“You must’ve read David’s thesis at Cambridge that he wrote in 1940,” Howard said, almost clapping Tony on the shoulder, before remembering that Tony was not to be touched.

“You’re the author of ‘Fissile Materials and the Sustainability of Graphite as a Moderator’?!” Tony exclaimed.

Steve was sure that he had never heard awe coming from Tony before. It was strange to hear it, and even stranger to hear him directing it at David. Tony’s camaraderie with Bruce, and endless discussion of scientific theories or papers, wasn’t anything like what Steve heard at the moment. David had turned beet red, but gave a small nod of confirmation.

“Well, shit, kid—sorry,” Tony began, but quickly apologized. “Shit. Your paper, Dr. Brewster, saved my ass from a potentially embarrassing thesis defense at MIT.”

“You were a nuclear physicist at MIT, Tony?” Peggy questioned, curious.

“No. Mechanical engineering,” Tony answered. “The thesis I defended was a theory for the arc reactor. Sustainable energy that wasn’t nuclear reactor type of stuff—aw man.”

Tony’s attention was diverted once again to David as he asked, “You were part of Tube Alloy, weren’t you, Doc—”

“Mr. Stark, please stop harassing my employee with your questions,” Peggy suddenly interrupted. She then turned slightly towards Michael, saying, “Michael, I think it’s getting late for all of us. Would you please escort David to the car, while I ensure Howard makes it home safely? I’ll join the two of you shortly.”

There was a definite edge to her tone. Even as Howard spluttered, Steve briefly felt Peggy slip her hand into his and gently squeezed it in farewell for the night. She rarely ever did that, and it told him that she was unequivocally not happy with what had happened in the past few minutes.

Steve wasn’t sure what exactly was the cause of that, but he was sure it had to do with David and the fact that the engineer had a doctorate in a highly sought-after field in this point in time. As surprised as he was that someone as young as David was, had such an advanced degree, he knew that the SSR did recruit the best and brightest.

“Will do,” Michael answered, getting up and giving Bucky another brief squeeze on his shoulder, before going to collect David.

With Howard confused and still spluttering, Peggy almost forcibly dragged him away. That only left him, along with Bucky, still sitting at the table, and Tony, who was idling near the assembled components for the device.

As soon as the door to the main area closed, Tony said, “Sorry about that, Steve. I forgot that the Official Secrets Act was still in effect. Almost everything about early atomic weapons, and their creation was unclassified by the time you woke up from ice.”

“Is knowing about whatever Tube Alloys is, necessary to making the device work?” Steve asked, as Tony took a seat at the table.

“Not directly,” Tony stated, shaking his head slightly. “But this is going to draw a lot more power than what happened with you and the serum. This is not 2023, where I have a working arc reactor to power the device.”

Tony paused for a few moments, tapping his chin with a finger. “I think that’s also one of the other reasons why Dad wanted Dr. Brewster on the project. Tube Alloys was the joint Canadian-UK’s R&D program that preceded the Manhattan Project. It got subsumed into Manhattan during the war. When I was working on my thesis, my professor just happened to have worked in Tube Alloys, and referred me to several participants’ early research. One of which was Dr. Brewster’s thesis.”

Steve remained silent for a few long minutes. On one hand, he agreed with Peggy that things should not have escalated to the rough parting that had just happened. On the other hand, it now became painfully clear to him that Howard had not recruited David Brewster just because the engineer was a micro-engineer. David had most likely either been plucked – or quit, Steve didn’t know and dared never to ask – from the British equivalent of the dangerous Manhattan Project to analyze HYDRA’s weaponry brought upon the 107th in Azzano.

“How much power are we talking about, and where are you going to source it from, Stark?” Bucky’s unexpected question startled both of them.

“Dad has the Tesseract,” Tony stated, without any of the usual snark, sarcasm, or anger in his tone. “It’s the only power source, short of actually building a nuclear reactor, that can power the machine.”

“Steve,” Bucky began, looking slightly pained.

“I know,” Steve answered, feeling the unease and uncertainty within him bloom.

To harness and use the Tesseract’s energy was putting them too close to what HYDRA had done. Steve had never asked Tony how the time-traveling device would be powered. He had assumed that plain old electricity – like how they had powered Bruce’s machine in 2023 – would be enough. He hadn’t realized that Tony had used an arc reactor to power the actual machine.

“Is there any other way?” Steve asked.

“If there was, I would have already told you, Steve,” Tony solemnly stated. “Fury’s Phase 2 weapons with the Tesseract never sat well with me either.”

“What’s Phase 2, and who is this Fury character?” Bucky asked.

“Nicholas Fury was Director of SHIELD during the first time Thanos attacked via proxy by Loki,” Steve stated before Tony could answer. “Phase 2 was SHIELD creating weapons using the Tesseract.”

“What the hell?” Bucky softly exclaimed, looking completely appalled. “I thought you said SHIELD was the good guys, Steve. That’s just like—”

“HYDRA, I know,” Steve answered, giving Tony a pointed look to **not** say a word about HYDRA resurgent within SHIELD. “It was immediately stopped. Thor took the Tesseract with him after the battle.”

“Well, our timeline’s Thor,” Tony clarified, wincing slightly. “2012—”

“Tony, that’s not the point,” Steve interrupted.

He still had not begun to contemplate or discuss how to return the Time and Mind Stones to 2012. Nor had he thought about what he would do – if anything – to try to restore the Tesseract and Loki in that particular point in time.

To his slight surprise, Tony did not push any further, and said, “Dad has the Tesseract at this point in time – not the SSR. If there’s a way to safely harness the energy into an arc reactor equivalent, then I’m sure the kid – Dr. Brewster – will find a way.”

There was a bitter taste in Steve’s mouth, and it was not from the now-cold coffee.

“Is there a way to destroy the Tesseract once we’re done with it?”

Bucky’s question surprised Steve. Tony didn’t seem to expect it either, but was faster in recovering, saying, “Bringing it to 2014 when the Power and Soul Stones were retrieved might be the best option.”

Steve frowned slightly, but understood what Tony was getting at. “No Thanos in that timeline, since he was killed in our 2023. Would an extra Tesseract in a timeline be detrimental?”

“I have absolutely no idea,” Tony said, shaking his head. “Quantum mechanics and relativity are not easy concepts to put black and white boxes over them. Theoretically, it shouldn’t. It will also protect this timeline from Thanos collecting all of the stones.”

Steve nodded, even though he was just as puzzled, if not more than confused than Tony. There was concern in Bucky’s eyes as he held his best friend’s gaze with his own. But there was also the opposite side that needed to be addressed.

“And, if there is no way to safely harness the energy from the Tesseract into an arc reactor, then I leave,” he quietly stated.

“Not going to happen, Rogers,” Tony unexpectedly stated, giving him a pointed look. “Have some faith in us, will you?”

Steve glanced over to see a similar look being directed at him by Bucky. His best friend shook his head slightly in exasperation, before nodding in agreement with Tony. Despite both of their unease at what needed to be done with this timeline’s Tesseract, Steve was glad that they were in agreement about the disposal of the Tesseract.

Humanity had made mistakes – gravelly large and infinitesimally small – before and after Steve woke up from ice. But if there was one thing that Steve was willing to affect in this world, it was to preempt Thanos from gathering all the stones.

After all, second chances to make things right were rare.

* * *

_Several days later…_

“It’ll take days to verify what she’s given us,” Peggy couldn’t help but mutter as she and Bucky made their way down the fairly busy sidewalk.

“That’s if we keep it discreet,” Bucky answered. “If the information is solid and true, then it’s SSR-Europe that we need to worry about.”

“I haven’t worked in a song, or a natural way to test Lorraine with the commands,” Peggy admitted, as they stopped at the corner of the intersection.

If they turned left, it was a direct path back down to the Brooklyn facility. If they turned right, then several streets and a maze of alleyways would carry them to where Dottie Underwood had been temporarily housed.

Where Dottie currently resided was a small apartment owned by Howard. Howard was not using in the apartment – having decided to take up residence somewhere else in Brooklyn. Peggy had convinced Jarvis to allow her to borrow the apartment, under the guise of the project.

While she normally wouldn’t have done such a thing, the apartment also had a customized security system – which was what she needed to ensure that Dottie remained safe. The system was different than what Howard employed at the Brooklyn facility, so there was little worry that Dottie would be able to break in.

Bucky and Steve rooming together in the facility until the time-traveling device was built, and the stones returned, added an extra layer of security for the facility. She knew that Steve prioritized the fact that the device and stones should never fall into the wrong hands.

There was an edge to that knife that he could disappear without her knowing, but she never lingered on that thought. It was akin to any of them being randomly hit by car while walking on the streets. The time she spent, whenever she could, with him after hours in the facility were treasured times.

“We’ll cross that bridge when the time comes,” she said after a moment. “Are you sure that you want to take this shift?” she asked, looking up at him with some concern.

“If Steve ever needs Natasha’s help for something, I don’t want her to not be there,” he answered. “I’m fine with the double-duty, Pegs. You have a project, team, and facility to run. Let me take some of the burden off your shoulders.”

“All right,” she answered, patting his arm. “It’s just, your frequent absence has been noted by a certain someone. I make your excuses when I can, but there’s only so much I can say.”

“Pass along a message then, please,” Bucky answered, the edges of his lips quirking up in a slight smile. “Rooftops, tonight at moon rise.”

“Oh, a romantic,” she couldn’t help but tease. In a more serious tone, she said, “I’ll pass on the message. Be careful, Bucky.”

“You too, Peggy.”

* * *

 _Later in the evening_ _…_

Bucky wasn’t quite panting by the time they parted for a second to breathe. It always surprised him just how unexpectedly and deeply passionate Michael could be at times. Another few minutes more of being pushed against the rough brick wall and fervent kisses that left him breathless – Bucky might’ve abandoned all caution, and have Michael on the ground; illegality of their relationship be damned.

Yet, Michael pulled back when Bucky leaned forward slightly to kiss him with renewed vigor. “What’s wrong?” he asked, sensing that something was strangely not all right.

Michael looked away, and a moment later, let him go. Bucky saw him take a step back, as a surprising look of hurt briefly eclipsed his face. “Is she treating you all right?”

Bucky frowned. “What?” he asked.

“Your new Confidential Informant,” Michael answered, finally looking at him again, before gesturing up and down his body. “I’m assuming that’s who you’ve been running off to, when you’re not on shift.”

“Michael—” Bucky began.

“Her perfume is all over you,” Michael said. Bucky saw him clench his hands into fists, looking away again. “I can’t…” his lover began. “I know that it’s a part of your duties. But I can’t—”

“I’m not—I didn’t—Having sex with CIs is not a part of my duties,” he said, appalled at what he was hearing.

“Then what the hell do you call what happened while you were behind the lines?!” Michael exploded, hissing his words just loud enough for Bucky to hear the anger and hurt. “How the hell would you describe what you briefed them: ‘orally serviced the target for a half-hour before penetrating’—”

Michael didn’t even get to finish his accusations, stepping away from him in disgust and revulsion. Bucky didn’t attempt to defend himself from the words – he **had** stated those words during the briefing. He also didn’t close the distance between them, and remained where he was.

“Michael,” he began again.

“Don’t, Bucky,” Michael said, looking up at him, eyes red-rimmed with unshed tears. “Don’t even think about saying those three words to me. They’re not… I’m not… meant—”

The loquaciousness that Michael usually commanded faltered him. Michael then turned and walked away. Bucky didn’t go after him, and even after the door to the rooftop slammed close, he remained where he was.

Michael had been the one to convince him to return to serving his country, after they had both been rescued by Steve. Bucky had remained in the hospital longer than necessary, his memories a jumbled mess – and uncertainty as to why Steve had decided to suddenly ‘retire’ into anonymity.

Philips had visited him with the offer to join the SSR’s Europe branch, and to complete Operation Midnight. Revenge for what happened to him hadn’t been on the top of his list, until Michael had secretly let him read reports from MI-5. It was those reports of what was happening in and around Soviet lines that convinced him to become the agent he was today.

Then, they had enlisted his mother into the operation. She had been the one to fully open his eyes to the dirty world of espionage. She had trained him, and she had warned him – that he could never hope to have a normal life, or relationship ever again.

She had told him that his life was a lie to everyone but himself.

“Dottie Underwood just caught me off guard when she tried to test boundaries today. That’s all that happened,” he whispered into the relative silence of the night.

* * *

Doors being slammed were always a sign that something was wrong.

Doors being slammed in this particular facility were a sign to Steve that something bad had happened to Bucky. Even more alarming was the angry stomp of footsteps down the hall, and past his room.

Steve immediately placed the sketch he had been working on to the side, and investigated.

Just as he opened the door and peered out, he saw Bucky disappear into the small locker room. That door too, was slammed shut. Something had happened on the rooftop – something that made Bucky angrier than he had ever seen him. It left Steve wondering what on earth had happened?

He knew that Michael had stayed behind after lights-out, while Peggy had not. She had told him that she needed to go present her progress report to Headquarters, before Chief Thompson left for the day.

Because of the secret circumstances between Michael and Bucky, and separation to prevent ‘temptation’ – according to Bucky – a rooftop rendezvous was the only other option. Steve almost offered to use the Reality Stone to conceal the two, but that would’ve been an even more awkward conversation that he really did not feel like having with his brother-in-law or best friend.

The sound of tiles being smashed, followed by a yell of anguish snapped Steve out of his brief reverie. He tore out of his room and ran to the locker room.

The door opened with ease, but wafting out into the three-person showers that were connected to the lockers was a thick blanket of steam. The sound of tiles being smashed again, along with Bucky grunting carried across to the lockers, but Steve didn’t run in. Instead, he cautiously approached.

What he saw through the glimpses of the steam that covered the entire communal shower was… Steve had no words for it.

Bucky had punched his flesh-and-blood arm into the wall hard enough to dent it, and was still doing so. Blood from his strikes were being washed away by the scalding spray of water he stood under. His best friend wasn’t aware of just how red and blistered his skin was becoming.

Even before Steve was halfway into the area, Bucky suddenly heaved and collapsed. Steve rushed forward, ignoring the blast of pain that prickled across his skin that was not covered in clothing.

He caught Bucky in his arms, and reached up to quickly shut the spray. He could feel Bucky shaking like a leaf against him, as he sat back against what was left of the tiles blanketing the wall.

“It’s all right,” he gently murmured, rocking him back and forth slightly.

There was no sound coming from his best friend, but Steve didn’t need to glance down to know that Bucky was silently crying. Whatever happened up there, whatever it was, it was enough to overwhelm Bucky. His best friend, his rock, his anchor in life was collapsing – and all Steve could do was hold him—

Because it hurt to do anything else.

Because he knew that he should have done so long ago.

Because Steve knew what it felt like.

Because no one should have to suffer alone through heartbreak.

* * *

_Hours later…_

The gentle sound of pencil scratching on paper woke Bucky up.

Fuzziness enveloped his thoughts, and an overwhelming sense of exhaustion accompanied it. But as he clawed his way up from sleepiness, the sound of pencil on paper became more acute.

With that also came the memories of what had happened – and a sudden awareness that he was _not_ lying on his own bed. Nor were the blankets tucked up against him his own. They smelled of—

Bucky blinked and slowly sat up, wondering how he had ended up in Steve’s room, tucked into Steve’s bed, still naked no less—

“You don’t have to tell me what happened, Bucky.”

Bucky’s eyes swiveled to stare at Steve. His best friend was sitting on the floor, wearing comfortable clothing, and was still sketching whatever he was sketching on the paper. “How…?”

“Well, you’re not 90 pounds when soaking wet,” Steve said.

Bucky heard the slight bitterness in his chuckle.

“But it was easier to just let you rest here, rather than carry you across the facility to your room,” Steve continued.

He saw Steve put down the pad and pencil, and get up. The edge of the bed sank slightly with Steve’s weight. “Turn slightly to your left,” Steve said. “Your back blistered up badly while you were under the spray. I just want to make sure that your skin’s healed over.”

Wordlessly, Bucky complied. Grief, frustration, anger, and everything in between all of those had torn across him after Michael—

“Let me see your hand, please?”

Steve’s question brought him back to the present. Bucky turned to face Steve once again, and was slightly surprised when he drew his flesh-and-blood hand out from under the blankets. His knuckles and a third of his fingers had been wrapped in a thick amount of gauze.

Silently, he watched as Steve slowly undid the wrap. There was a sheen over the still raw and red skin. The cuts were still visible, but it was clear that they were slowly healing.

The bed shifted slightly again. Bucky’s eyes traced Steve’s short route from sitting by his side to retrieving the small medical kit on the table, and back to him.

“I had a CI’s perfume all over me,” he quietly broke the silence as Steve worked on his hand. “I should’ve taken a shower before—”

Bucky stopped and sighed, looking away for a brief moment. “It wouldn’t have mattered, anyways. I… we… it was falling apart the minute I returned from Operation Midnight. This was just the last straw.”

He glanced down at his left hand, the metal gleaming and shiny, even under dimmed lights. “Why the fuck am I like this?” he couldn’t help but whisper.

“There is nothing wrong with you, Bucky,” Steve’s gentle comment caused him to snap his eyes towards his best friend.

“The hell—” he began, feeling insultingly patronized.

“You are a spy. You are an assassin, and the best one in the business,” Steve continued to say, surprising Bucky with his words. “You defend the innocent, speak for those oppressed, those who need help, and those who can't fight. You are a winter soldier who is ever vigilant in his defense of life and liberty. And you use every single means available at your disposal to do so.”

Steve finished binding his hand in gauze, and gently clasped it. “The life you… Peggy… everyone in this business leads is isolating, but necessary,” Steve continued to say. “I know. I’ve seen it. I’ve lived it. If whomever you seek solace with cannot, then they don’t deserve you.”

“ _I know how it feels, to try your damnest to protect the one you love, only to fail because help couldn't get there in time. I see you, and I see what you're doing. I know and understand something of how you feel. You're not alone.”_

Michael had said those words to him so long ago – in a hotel room at the Savoy – when they had just been two agents trying to figure out who they were in world gone mad. It was not the same words as Steve’s, but the sentiment behind them were.

Bucky tasted bitterness in his mouth. Time changed all, but it seemed that time in captivity, and Operation Midnight for both Michael and he had changed both of them. More than either of them could live with. But that time in captivity…

Bucky glanced at his metal arm for a brief moment before looking back up. Steve’s blue-green eyes were full of comfort, sympathy, and something else – something that looked surprisingly intimate. But Bucky had to ask—“You call me _**a**_ winter soldier.”

Immediately, those blue-green eyes of Steve’s hardened into crystals. Bucky was quick to move his injured hand from under Steve’s care to grasping them tightly together. He needed to know—

“The CI is a Soviet agent,” he stated. “She called me ‘The Winter Soldier’. Romanov said that she doesn’t know who this person is, now. Who was he, in the future?”

Steve looked away. When those mesmerizing, ocean-like eyes of his returned onto him, Bucky saw that the crystals they had been had softened.

“He was a soldier… brainwashed to become a weapon of fear and chaos. Someone I fought against,” Steve said. “Someone I searched for, when he disappeared. And someone I was determined to save.”

“You… you loved him, didn’t you?” Bucky asked. It was the first time he had ever said that particular word seriously to Steve. And in the context of what he did not verbally hear – it sounded like Steve had been betrayed – had his heart broken – by this ‘Winter Soldier’.

“Peggy had little time left in her life, when we were reunited,” Steve answered. Bucky heard the melancholy in his tone as clear as day. “It was… difficult for me to find someone that I could relate to, in the future.”

Bucky felt Steve’s hands shift ever so slightly under his grasp. “But, I don’t… know…” Steve began, but faltered for a moment. “By the time I found the Winter Soldier again, it was too late. He was saved, but very little was the same between us anymore.”

“I called you _**a**_ winter soldier because that is who you are, Bucky,” Steve said after a moment, voice stronger than before.

Bucky eased his hold on Steve’s hands. There was such conviction in his best friend’s tone that he could feel the knot in his heart that he hadn’t realized was there, begin to lessen.

“Get some rest,” he heard Steve say after a moment. Bucky watched and felt Steve tuck his injured hand back under the covers, before standing up.

“This is your bed, Steve,” Bucky began, feeling a little embarrassed and uncertain—

“So?” was Steve’s unexpected shrug, before he turned and walked away.

Bucky watched him leave, and the door to the room close. Silence enveloped him as he heard Steve’s footsteps fade. He blinked; puzzled, surprised, and most of all – confused.

~~~

Steve made it to the stairwell that led down to the laboratory floor, before he stopped. He leaned his forehead against the cool brick wall, a rushing sense of relief and regret coursing through him.

Heartbreak was something he never knew how to deal with – even when he had been trying to lead the support group in the aftermath of Thanos’ work. All he had said to Bucky was the truth – even if it were a variation of the words he had said to Bucky in the future – when they had been stuck in another reality.

Another time.

Another life.

But to discuss the Winter Soldier—

“You need to tell him, Steve.”

Steve opened his eyes and looked left. Natasha was standing there, arms crossed over his chest. “Heard all of that, didn’t you?”

“No, actually,” she stated. “But because you hold the stones, I can sometimes feel strong emotions from you. Anything relating to the Winter Soldier has a distinct feeling. You need to tell him about the Winter Soldier.”

“No,” he said, looking back at the brick wall.

“It’s who he is, Steve.”

“It’s not,” he answered, trying to keep himself from lashing out at her in anger. “You said so yourself! He’s not the Winter Soldier.”

Silence answered him. Steve glanced over again; Natasha was still standing there, but she had uncrossed her arms. “Why?” he asked.

“They captured Dottie Underwood,” she quietly stated. “Your wife and your best friend.”

“Bucky’s CI is a Soviet agent,” Steve couldn’t help but murmur. “It should’ve been obvious.”

“Underwood says that there’s a traitor in our midst, but she isn’t specifying who or where. Only that there has been someone feeding information across lines for the past two years. They’re holding her at a safe house for now, while they try to verify everything that she’s given them so far.”

“On top of what they’re doing here?” Steve asked, straightening himself.

“That’s not the point, Steve,” Natasha answered. “You need to tell Barnes about the Winter Soldier. Underwood explicitly _called_ him that – in front of your wife.”

“No,” he said, shaking his head. As worried as Steve was, he couldn’t bring himself to agree. It was a name – it was only a name, and neither Peggy or Bucky knew what it truly was.

“Steve,” Natasha began, taking a step forward. “How do you know—”

“Don’t,” he warned. “Don’t you dare—”

“Steve, he was first deployed in 1947,” she insisted. “We don’t know exactly when. We don’t even know why that September date marker was in Zola’s journals. For all we know—”

“Bucky is not the Winter Soldier!”

Natasha remained silent for a few long seconds. “No,” she agreed. “He’s not.”

Steve watched as she wrapped her hands around her arms, rubbing them as if she were cold, before looking back up at him.

“You rescued him on September 24th, 1946, but he was captured in 1945. He’s not the traitor, but if Underwood knows about him, who else – right now – might know the conditioning commands?”

~*~*~*~


	13. Resonance Cascade – Part 3

**Chapter 8: Resonance Cascade – Part 3**

_December 2_ _3_ _rd_ _, 1948..._

“Bucky,” Peggy’s gentle, but firm tone stopped him from reaching for the rooftop door’s handle.

He looked at her, seeing her silently indicate that they needed to talk in private – away from DumDum, who had taken over for the next shift. Following her to the other side of the rooftop, he leaned slightly against the parapet, waiting for her to speak.

“Michael said that you cheated on him,” she stated in a blunt tone.

Bucky briefly closed his eyes before opening them again. During the war, Peggy had intuit his interest in her brother. While he knew that Peggy had initially assumed his interest in Michael for the wrong reasons, his interest had become genuine. But even then, she had warned him that he would have to answer to her, if he ever broke her brother’s heart.

It had been a few days since the rooftop rendezvous. A few days since Michael had stormed off. A few days since Steve’s strangely heartfelt, but comforting words to him to try to ease his heartache. A few days since he had fallen deep asleep in Steve’s bed, with the last thing he felt was Steve gently pressing a kiss to the crown of his head.

Bucky still didn’t know what to make of that affectionate, but seemingly chaste gesture.

It had been a few days, and in those days, neither he nor Michael had directly talked to each other. Bucky had continued his double-duty shifts, rarely going into laboratory to see how things were progressing. In turn, Michael had remained in the laboratory, helping Steve or Howard and the others wherever they needed.

When he did go into the facility, it was only to have Lorraine pass messages to Peggy. It was only to also return to his room to sleep – if he could at all, and only when Michael was not there.

After that one night where Steve had generously let him stay, Bucky dared not to ask to stay again. He knew what rebound relationships were like – having been the rebound guy with a girl who had been dumped by the guy she had been dating.

Steve had stayed that night, watching over him. It felt like old times, before the war, but the only difference was, that Steve _knew_ about him – knew how Bucky felt about him. And Bucky knew that as much as he wanted to – he should not read any further into any of Steve’s actions or words of comfort, than what they were on the surface.

His best friend was married to Peggy – and definitely off limits. Bucky made sure to remind himself of that every morning, since that night; even if a couple of those mornings had required cold showers.

At the thought of Peggy, Bucky mentally shook himself out of his brief reverie. “I did,” he stated, holding Peggy’s eyes with his own. “I had to, to complete Operation Midnight. You can call me a prostitute, selling my body for information, but it was the only way.”

“But not with Dottie,” Peggy finished up, eyes betraying nothing.

“Not with Dottie,” he said.

He wasn’t going to make the excuse that Dottie Underwood had caught him off guard. In hindsight, he knew that he had been in the wrong for non-verbally goading her during his shift. But the swiftness of her ‘attack’ had given him an extremely good indication to how well-trained in the killing arts she was.

Peggy was silent for a few moments before asking, “Those people you slept with, during Operation Midnight, you killed them afterwards, didn’t you?”

“I can ask Philips to make an exception for you to read the reports,” he answered instead.

Midnight was still classified under the Official Secrets Act, and he was bound to it – even as a US citizen. Everything Peggy knew of, was indirectly alluded to her initial read into the operation during the war. Bucky guessed that Michael had read the full report when he and Steve had been in London, recruiting David and getting permission from Philips.

“You’re more Black Widow than whatever this Winter Soldier nickname Dottie’s given you,” Peggy muttered.

Bucky remained silent. Steve had told him a little about the future-Winter Soldier in confidence. Bucky was certain that Peggy didn’t know about this apparent second love – he still wasn’t entirely sure of the relationship – of Steve’s. Yet, despite what Steve had said, Dottie’s Winter Soldier ‘nickname’ for him, still didn’t sit well with him.

But he also thought the comparison of him to a Black Widow was a little unnerving, and too accurate. Peggy knew about his mother being a turned Imperial Russian agent from the Guard Department, but she didn’t know that his mother had been the first Black Widow.

Dottie’s initial information had all but confirmed to him that she knew a woman had been the one to assist him in Operation Midnight. Someone from SSR-Europe had leaked that information – but not the identity of the woman.

Yet, Lorraine had been secretly cleared. Even the rest of the SSR and 107th here with them in this facility had also been secretly cleared of being turned agent with a different personality.

“I can’t mediate between the two of you,” Peggy said, bringing him back to the present. “Nor will I take a side, even with Steve clearly taking your side. All I can ask is that the two of you try to find some way to separate work from your personal lives – until this is over. After that…”

She paused and took a deep breath, sighing noisily. “After this project is complete, then we’ll see what happens.”

“Thank you, Peggy,” he solemnly stated. “And I will try. How are things progressing down there?”

“Howard, David, and Tony will be attempting to power up the integrated system later this afternoon,” Peggy said. “I’ve warned those on perimeter duty for that time frame that Howard will be testing a portion of the serum on mice.”

“They actually created an arc reactor?” Bucky asked, surprised.

“I was told by Tony that given the current capabilities and understanding that we have at the moment, it is a prototype of the actual one. But, it theoretically should work,” Peggy answered. “The morning test went well.”

“But?” Bucky questioned, sensing that there was something more important.

“But according to David’s analyses and Howard’s verification of those analyses, sustaining the power output of the reactor can’t be maintained for a long continuous journey,” she explained. “The engineering knowledge to build the device here and now does not easily lend itself to 2023’s knowledge.”

“Meaning Steve will have to jump back and forth,” Bucky concluded. “That’s good, right?”

“Yes and no,” Peggy answered, frowning slightly. “Steve still won’t explain what these Pym Particles are, and Tony won’t even put an explanation into proper English. But suffice to say, Steve’s going to have to steal some more of these particles from 1970 to make sure he has enough to finish delivering all the stones back.”

“Shit,” Bucky breathed.

Returning the Space Stone or Tesseract to SHIELD in 1970, in a highly secured military base that was already on alert for Steve and Tony’s first journey, had hit a wall in planning. However they had all looked at it, it was damn near impossible for Steve to slip back in without being noticed.

Both Tony and Steve had made it out there with the Tesseract and these ‘Pym Particles’ by pure sheer luck. Going back to return the stone _and_ stealing more was just asking for more than just trouble, or ripples in an already precarious timeline at that point in time.

From what little Steve had told them about this ‘Cold War’ that they were entering – the fifty-plus years it spanned – was a time of fear, mistrust, and proxy wars between the US and Soviet Union. Many crises and outright nuclear war had been averted due to cooler heads.

But, Bucky listened between the words that Steve had said; a splinter in time caused by the wrong people catching a glimpse of Captain America in 1970 could cascade to deadlier consequences.

It was ironic to Bucky that they were concerned about time in the future, yet now, they didn’t have time to waste.

“I may have a way to verify that Dottie Underwood is telling us the truth,” he spoke up after a few moments.

It was not ideal, but considering the time that minding Dottie was taking away from their primary duties to the facility and project, it was better than waiting another few weeks. If today’s integrated power up of the device worked, then it would only be a matter of time until Steve began to return the stones to their proper place in time.

No one knew how long that would take.

A successful test of the time-traveling device was also guaranteed to have people become curious. Even if Sousa, Li, and the 107th were mollified with the excuse to ignore the noise, they would eventually become quite curious and would want to watch some of the tests. Neighbors in the area would also not be able to fully ignore the noise.

Noise brought curiosity, and curiosity brought danger.

Both he and Peggy could not waste anymore time after the first successful test to keep an eye on Dottie. Either they had to hand her over to the SSR without verifying her story and information, or set her free to be hunted by her fellow Widows.

“Faster than waiting for information to return through other means?” Peggy asked.

“Yeah,” he answered, nodding once.

He glanced down at his metal gloved hand for a moment before looking back up. “I haven’t been entirely truthful to you about the Black Widows, or the twenty-one of them that have scattered into the wind.”

“Go on,” Peggy answered after a moment, thinning her lips ever so slightly.

“The twenty-one survivors didn’t all come from that same training compound you initially found,” he said. “I can tell you that what Underwood said is the truth – the burning of the building with the trainees who had not passed, still inside. My partner and I found several other compounds – all burnt to the ground. There was only one of them we managed to make it to – somewhere in the steppes – that we saw bodies burning.”

He took a deep breath, briefly closing his eyes at the horrific memories seared in his mind’s eye. He could still hear the screams, the smell of burning flesh—

“Bucky,” Peggy’s gentle voice and equally gentle hand on his own shook him out of his memories. “It’s all right.”

“We killed everyone there,” he stated. “Every man or woman who was holding a log, torch, anything that contributed to the fire. Then, we tried to save those we could. When the ashes settled, only three girls survived. A fourteen, twelve, and nine-year-old.”

“There was no way we could take them with us – we were only a few months into our mission,” he continued after a moment. “But then, my partner did something unexpected. She started killing the girls.”

“What?” he heard Peggy’s horrified whispered cut through him like a knife.

“She killed both the nine-year-old and twelve-year-old,” Bucky said, forcing himself to continue. “I wasn’t fast enough to stop her. But she didn’t touch a hair on the fourteen-year-old. She just knelt down in front of the girl and looked at her, before telling me ‘she can be saved from what she knows and has already done’.”

He looked down at his metal left hand, curling it into a fist before saying, “Even at that age, they were already sending them out to do the work of a highly trained seductress and assassin.”

Bucky fell silent.

Black Widows terrified and fascinated him – and Natasha Romanov was no exception. He knew that the only reason why he flirted with her was to make sure his own skills were kept sharp. It seemed that Natasha knew it as well without him telling her about it. It was also because Natasha was Steve’s close friend as well, that he completely trusted her.

Dottie Underwood was not – and only a reminder of the things he had seen in the past year-and-a-half.

“What happened?” Peggy prompted a few seconds later.

“We took the girl with us,” he stated. “While my partner began to undo the damage done to the girl, I had to take over her role as the seductress to lure our targets in. At the same time, I also be the assassin who killed the targets.” He couldn’t help the bitterness in his tone as he said, “So yes, I willingly did cheat on Michael.”

He glanced over to see Peggy frowning, but she was staring out at the city skyline. “This partner of yours, she lives here in the city?” Peggy asked after a few moments.

“She does,” he answered.

“The girl, where is she now?”

“Home,” he said.

Bucky decided not to tell Peggy that his mother had sent a secret call out for Becca’s husband – Peter Proctor – to pick the girl up from across the border in China. After all, he knew very little of what Peter now did, after being turned from being a NKVD agent. All he knew was that there was enough reconciliation between Becca and Peter for them to have married.

“My partner undid most of the damage and conditioning – enough to send the girl home,” he said.

“Do you know how your partner decided that a fourteen-year-old girl could be trusted?” Peggy asked, glancing over at him.

He shook his head. “No, but she’s never been wrong about anything else we encountered in the mission. I trust her with my life, and I want her to vet Dottie Underwood.”

“Contact her then,” she stated. “And let’s see what she has to say about Dottie Underwood.”

* * *

_Inside the Brooklyn Facility…_

“Is it me, or did something happen between Barnes and Michael?”

Steve ignored Tony’s questioning quip, and returned his attention to the diagram of the area where where the Tesseract had been stored in 1970. Vents were a no-go for crawling into the area. First, it was on it’s own circulating system. Secondly, the vents – while numerous – were half the size of normal ducts—

“Like seriously, I’ve never seen Michael be so engaged in assembling the device. It’s almost uncanny clock work too, how he arrives and leaves with Dr. Brewster – never staying behind now—”

“Tony, shut up,” Natasha stated from where she sat at the table, pushing a couple of the sketches Steve drew, to the side. “Friends fight, and they just need time apart to settle differences. Remember your own grudge match against Steve here?”

“Yeah,” Tony stated, tightness in his tone.

“So leave it alone,” Natasha said. “I don’t ever recall you being a gossip monger anyways.”

“Who the hell would I gossip to anyways?” Tony asked, sounding offended. “I’m a dead ghost haunting this place.”

The noise of disgusted exasperation that left Natasha never reached its full volume. Steve heard her shift in her seat, before the sketch of the containers for Time and Mind Stone were slid across the diagram he was looking at.

“You’ve been awfully quiet on how you’re going to return these two, Steve,” Natasha said.

“Go to Bleecker and return the Time Stone after Bruce leaves. Stick the Mind Stone in a container that can hold its powers, and give it back to—”

“HYDRA?” Natasha asked, as he glanced over at her to see a dubious look on her face. “Seriously?”

“Loki already disappeared with the Tesseract in that reality, Steve,” Tony said. “I know, I know. Lang and I screwed up badly, but that timeline is splintered because of that. Why not just hand that stone over to say, my 2012 self. I can even command JARVIS to enact some protocols I know I built in to him during that time to keep it safe.”

“Just saying, Steve,” Natasha said, nodding in agreement with Tony.

Steve looked at both of them. It was extremely rare that Natasha ever agreed with Tony about anything – initial agreement of the Sokovia Accords notwithstanding. Yet, he was really hoping that he could avoid talking to the two about what he had done to get it.

Or how it was going to be impossible for him to fix that ripple in time.

He sighed and glanced down at the sketches.

“Shit, Rogers, what _did_ you do to get the Mind Stone?” Tony immediately asked.

Steve was silent for a few moments before he looked back up. “Sitwell didn’t buy the excuse of me invoking Pierce’s name to get the scepter away from them. So, I had to improvise.”

“Oh no,” Natasha began, as Steve saw realization dawn in her eyes.

“Yeah,” he answered. “I told them ‘Hail HYDRA’. It felt great at first, pulling the wool over their eyes with that, and got me out of the elevator with no complications—”

“Fuck, Steve,” Tony said, shaking his head. “You just made your 2012 self a fucking HYDRA agent?!”

“There’s a ‘but’ to this, isn’t there?” Natasha questioned.

“I ran into my 2012 self while enroute to the rendezvous point,” Steve said. “We fought, fell several stories to the ground floor, he got the upper hand and put me in a sleeper hold. Telling him that Bucky was alive was what gave me the upper hand. But, then I used the scepter on him.”

Natasha and Tony were silent for a few long moments before Tony muttered, “And I thought losing the Tesseract was the biggest fuck-up of that mission.”

Steve didn’t answer. He merely folded his hands together and looked at his friends. They could judge him however they wanted, but what was done, was done. A forceful cranial recalibration was needed to shake his 2012 self out of the Mind Stone’s hold, but the other incidents could not be undone.

He heard Natasha hum for a few seconds before saying, “There might be a way—”

“Tony?” Steve suddenly asked, as he saw his friend stiffen.

Not a second later, Tony suddenly tumbled off the chair, leaving a very familiar, sinister shadow covered in purple-black crystals behind. Steve was not the only one to immediately push away from the table.

“You can use me, Steve,” the Power Stone seductively purred.

The continuous, distorted, whispered echoes of Peggy and Bucky’s voices brushed across his ears as the crystal-like Power Stone continued to sit where Tony had been sitting. As for Tony, he was still on the ground, frozen like a statue.

“The hell—” both Howard and Michael exclaimed at the same time.

“Stay back!” Steve warned the others, as he snatched up the shield he had brought from his room for the morning test.

He flung it at the crystal-like entity. It laughed in Tony’s voice as the shield harmlessly passed through it, lodging itself into the brick wall. The laugh was as eerie as it was grating—

“Use me, and I will be able to solve all of your problems,” the Power Stone stated, languidly getting up and began walking through the table.

Natasha’s red hair suddenly appeared in front of Steve’s vision, as she stepped in front of him, arms held out. “You shall not touch him,” he heard her growl – her voice sounding unlike anything he had ever heard before.

Gone were the whispers of sweet nothings in the voices of Bucky and Peggy, in his ear. It was from Natasha’s mouth that he heard their voices now – overlapped with Natasha’s own.

The Power Stone stopped a few inches away from Natasha, menacingly staring at both of them. Steve took a step out from behind Natasha. _B_ _oth_ the entity and Natasha moved in the same direction as he did.

Steve could’ve sworn he saw the purple-black crystalline entity smile at him, before it was suddenly tackled from the left. Tony slammed into the entity, dissolving it into the dust it had turned into the first time. Like before, as Tony crashed to the ground, the dust began to fade.

Steve wanted to help him up, but Natasha kept moving with him, blocking him. It wasn’t until Tony slowly picked himself back up the floor that Natasha lowered her arms.

“We can’t wait any longer, Steve,” she whispered, twisting slightly to look up at him. “That particular stone _needs_ to go.”

* * *

_S_ _omewhere in Brooklyn…_

There was a festive cheerfulness that surrounded the apartment building that his mother, sisters, and brother-in-law lived in. While he knew Agnes and Samantha still lived with their mother, Becca and her husband apparently lived just down the hall from them. At least that was what he had been told the last time he had called his family.

Entering the building, it didn’t take him long to get to the floor where his mother lived. Those neighbors and others he passed by gave him some odd looks, but gave him room. Dressing sharply as he did as a federal agent sometimes had that effect – even if no one could tell he was concealing a pistol within his coat.

Stopping before the door, he could hear the faint noise of his sisters chatting away, and the sounds of people making things in the kitchen. He hoped his mother was there – never mind that her request to him to not return home for Christmas still lingered in his thoughts. And he hoped that despite their strained relationship, she would be amenable to help him.

Reaching up with his good hand, he knocked.

The faint noise of Becca yelling, “I’ll see who it is!” rang faintly from the other side.

A few moments later, she opened the door. Bucky saw her standing there, apron and dress covered in splotches of flour, with her brown hair pulled back and covered by a handkerchief.

“Bucky?” she whispered, before screeching his name. He only had a moment to brace himself before she launched herself at him.

Embracing her tightly, Bucky allowed himself this one moment of pure happiness and relief – that he could see his sister and family again. It had been almost six years since he had seen his family – Becca’s deployment as a WASP-turned-ATA pilot not withstanding.

Becca’s screech brought the rest of the family, and guests of the family for Christmas, out from wherever else they had been. He saw his other sisters and mother among the other two strangers – both men – in the crowd. He could only assume that one of the men was Peter, Becca’s husband, and the other possibly dating either Agnes or Samantha.

As he let Becca go, she tried to urge him to come in, but he shook his head. “This isn’t a social visit, Becca,” he said, loud enough for the others to hear. “Work has me temporarily assigned here, and I need to talk to Mom.”

He didn’t know what excuses their mother had made for her year-and-a-half long absence, but he could reasonably assume that she had told them something about working with him. After all, the Christmas that he and their mother had been deployed, they had both shared a phone call to the rest of the family.

There was disapproval written all over their mother’s face, but to his surprise, she gracefully nodded once to his request. Even more surprising was that she gestured for him to come in. He did so, but did not shed his coat, as he then followed his mother further into the crowded apartment.

“Please go join the others, Natalie,” he heard his mother say as they approached the bedroom at the end of the hall, and saw a girl peeking out.

It took a moment for Bucky to realize that the girl was the fourteen-year-old that they had rescued. She was all cleaned up, and apart from her eyes that looked too old for her age, she looked like any other ordinary girl at her age – all limbs and no coordination.

“Yes, ma’am,” the girl whispered, giving him a quick look before scampering away.

“She’s still adjusting to her new life,” he heard his mother state, as she closed the door to give them the necessary privacy. “But, Becca and Peter are in the midst of signing the papers to adopt her.”

“So you told them,” he stated, hearing the unsaid words that his mother was not directly saying.

“They only know what I was,” she answered, giving him a simple look. “Not what I had done, or of the mission we carried out. I came clean to Agnes and Samantha before I left.”

As much as he wanted to ask his mother if his sisters were all right after the fact, he didn’t. His mother could easily spin up lies like he could. But he didn’t need to ask her anyways – he had seen it in his sisters’ eyes just now. His sisters did not begrudge their mother for her past.

“And Peter?”

“He knows his place. Nicholas as well. Samantha’s betrothed, and a former MGB agent. Peter helped turn him,” his mother stated.

Bucky felt a chill go through him. Soviet agents were still targeting his family.

After the war, the intelligence arm of the Soviet Union had gone through some changes. Even though most of its activities stayed the same, it was currently known as the MGB – Министе́рство госуда́рственной безопа́сности СССР. Regardless, they were still a threat, though not at the capacity that they had been before Operation Midnight.

Yet, he dared not call his mother out on just how manipulative he thought she was. He didn’t know the whole story, and with just how strained their relationship was, she wouldn’t even listen to his words.

“I need you to vet a Black Widow,” he stated rather bluntly after a few moments. It was better to just get his purpose for being here out. “Are you willing to do that?”

“One of the twenty-one finally appeared?” his mother questioned, though it sounded more rhetorical than anything else.

“No,” he answered anyways. “The Widow that the twenty-one are pursuing.”

“And how are you sure that all twenty-one are pursuing her? And not other targets of interest… say whatever is going on at that former antiques store on Lafayette?”

Bucky tried to keep his expression schooled to impassivity. His mother would never mention anything like that so lightly in front of him. Yet, for all of his rooftop observations, he had never once seen her anywhere near the perimeter – or within it.

“I know that is where you are staying and sleeping for the time being, James,” his mother stated. “You’d best tell the woman in charge of that place that her people need to be more aware of their surroundings. Peter and Nicholas have both spotted several potential threats over the last few weeks. Not all of them are focused on Howard Stark’s presence within that… casting studio.”

“What do you want?” he asked, refusing to let his unease at her words affect him. There was a price to her information, especially with her revelation of just how she was ‘fielding’ both Becca’s husband and Samantha’s betrothed.

“If this Widow can be saved, I want her.”

He couldn’t help but gape at her for a few seconds. “Pardon?” he questioned, hoping that he had heard her correctly.

“There is only so much I can teach your sisters, James,” his mother unexpectedly stated. “My techniques were developed for the times I lived in. Natalie’s own was not cultivated in full, but enough to allow unmaking and remolding. This Widow, if she can be saved, is what I need—”

“What the hell are you turning my sisters into?!” he couldn’t help but hiss in anger. “They—why must you drag them into this?! This dirty, disgusting, **filthy** business—”

“You left me no choice, James,” his mother answered in a hard, unrelenting tone. “The day you signed up for war, knowing that you could have easily claimed that you were the only one to carry on the family name, was the day you left me no choice.”

“You could’ve told me!” he said, trying not to raise his voice. “You could’ve told me the whole truth! Not some half-baked horseshit story—”

“And what would that have done?” she countered. “I warned you to never let it consume you – only to guide you. You were blinded by love, James! Love of country, love of duty, love of—”

She abruptly stopped, taking a deep breath to compose herself. There was nothing in her eyes that betrayed the state she had been in when she looked at him again.

Calmly, she stated, “Let me see the Widow and keep her if she can be saved, or go back to whatever the hell you are doing for your country to ‘soothe’ your soul.”

Bucky knew he could walk away. He could walk away right now, and continue on with his life – as if he had never come to ask his mother for help. Belatedly, he realized that in an oddly kind way, his mother forbidding him to return home for Christmas was to keep him away from the knowledge of what his family was now.

Bitterly, Bucky couldn’t tell if his mother was just trying to be merciful, or still trying to control the narrative he heard. Time changed all, some more than others – and his family was no exception to that.

But he could not do that to Peggy – to the mission, or to those in SSR-Europe. They were under threat of a sleeper Soviet agent, and God only knew how he and Peggy were going to be able to warn SSR-Europe.

If all of Dottie Underwood’s story proved true.

“I need your help,” he quietly stated.

* * *

_Elsewhere in Brooklyn…_

This morning, the prototype arc reactor had been installed and powered on for a few minutes before being shut off. The reactor had not been connected to the other components when the power test happened. While Tony and the others were examining it, Peggy had taken the opportunity to go talk to Bucky about the sudden rift between him and Michael.

It had been Steve who told her what happened – or at least as much as he knew what happened from the one-sided story he got from Bucky. Peggy had to drag it out of Michael herself. But in hindsight, there had been signs that the relationship had been falling apart.

Fundamentally, Bucky was still the same. But after what little she had learned about the horrific portions of his mission behind Soviet lines, Peggy knew that he had pushed the boundaries of morality into a grey area that was incredibly murky.

Her brother… her brother had tried to save what he could. Yet, the depths of darkness that surrounded Bucky and what he had done during Operation Midnight were too much for Michael to bear. Michael couldn’t pull Bucky back to the light – reading the full report on Operation Midnight had been the last straw. Peggy worked with Bucky long enough over these nearly two months to see that he _didn’t_ want to return to the light.

Nevertheless, she couldn’t send either away from the project—

“Peggy?”

Dottie’s eager, questioning tone that she had used countless of times before when she had been undercover at the Griffiths, startled her. “Peggy? Hello?”

Blinking and feeling a little flustered at just how close Dottie’s face was to hers, Peggy pulled back slightly. “Yes?” she asked, keeping herself calm.

“You seem more distracted than you usually are,” Dottie answered, sitting back slightly and picked up the teapot. “More tea?”

“No, thank you,” she said, shaking her head slightly.

She watched as Dottie placed the teapot back down. The tray of cookies that Dottie had surprisingly baked and presented to her was untouched. Peggy knew better than to eat anything that had been made by Dottie, but the woman seemed strangely genuinely happy to see her today. She knew that she shouldn’t think much of it, but there always seemed to be a combative air around Dottie, whenever both she and Bucky visited.

“Then, shall we continue on with the questions—”

Dottie immediately fell silent and darted her gaze around. Not a split second later, Peggy’s senses were prickling as well. There was something amiss in Howard’s apartment—

A cacophony of noise would have been more apt in a surprise attack. But Peggy only had a moment to catch a glimpse of a knife being thrown her way, before she was suddenly tackled.

Slamming into the plush carpet did little to cushion the blow. Peggy tried to get up, but found herself pinned to the ground by Dottie. Worse yet, Dottie had snatched her gun from her holster and began firing at the shadows that surrounded both of them.

The hunting Black Widows had found their prey.

It only took Dottie seven shots to make the shadows disappear as suddenly as it had appeared. The creatures prowling within them had also faded into nothingness. Five heavy _clinks_ had slammed into the ground.

Peggy glanced over towards the nearest clinking noise to see the same type of unusual-looking sword that Dottie had left with Bucky weeks ago, stabbed into the plush carpet. Beyond that particular sword was a woman, dressed head-to-toe in black with a red bodice-like thing wrapped around her waist.

As cliché as it was, it was also apt, in Peggy’s opinion. Five Black Widows surrounded her and Dottie – and Dottie still wasn’t letting her move, or get off the ground. She had her in a tight straddle, leaning over her with a hand pinned to her shoulder and gun in her other – raised and pointed at the nearest Widow.

“Sisters,” Dottie began, looking at the other Widows, who were rubbing their wrists. Peggy could only surmise that Dottie had shot the swords out of their grips with uncanny accuracy.

“Let this one go,” Dottie continued to slowly say, dipping her gun just slightly enough to gesture towards Peggy. “She is not your prey. I am.”

Silence answered Dottie’s words. Peggy could not even read what the women were thinking – their expressions completely blank. It was eerie enough that they looked like life-sized exquisitely gorgeous porcelain dolls.

Who were able to kill without sparing a thought.

The sudden, explosive noise of glass being broken, following by a hail of sharp shards flying into the apartment immediately caught the Widows’ attention. Dottie immediately whirled off of her, and leapt at the nearest Widow.

Freed, Peggy rolled up and into a hard kick, preventing another Widow from rushing towards a sword. Grey overcoat briefly filled her vision, as she blinked and saw Bucky swoop in and lock his metal arm around the Widow’s neck, snapping it instantly.

Peggy didn’t even get to attack another Widow – the fight was over in a matter of seconds. She couldn’t help the chill that swept through her as she saw the five dead bodies of the Widows strewn about. They had been killed so fast that she hadn’t even seen, much less follow Bucky’s other attacks – or Dottie’s – or the newcomer—

“You’re—” Peggy began, blinking as she slowly stood up to see an older-looking woman, wearing a black coat, standing next to two dead Widow.

“Vera Romanova,” the woman stated, giving her a rather haughty look.

Peggy couldn’t help but gape for a moment. Bucky’s ‘partner’ from Operation Midnight was indeed, Bucky’s mother. She had her suspicions, especially when Bucky had revealed his parentage to her and Michael, just before the Alps mission. Yet, she never thought MI-5 or the SSR would go through with the reactivation.

While it was quite clear where Bucky got his handsome looks from, it was also clear to Peggy that Bucky definitely did not get his kind nature from the woman. It was also clear that Bucky’s mother was not even bothering to use her alias: Winifred Barnes.

“Peggy Carter, SSR,” she said, holding out a hand. “Thank you, for saving us.”

Vera’s grip was firm and strong, but did not attempt to overwhelm her own. “I see James has already told you who I am.”

“Only to put into context about one of the SSR’s missions during the war,” she carefully answered.

Even now, she dared not to refer to Estonia, or anything else that could give away how little she knew about Bucky’s mother. All she really knew was that Vera had been turned into a double-agent against her motherland – Imperial Russia – but had to flee when the revolution swept in. Then the woman had lived the life of anonymity as Winifred Barnes, homemaker and wife to Bucky’s father.

Peggy could’ve sworn she saw a ghost of a twitch upwards from Vera’s lips. But she didn’t linger on that, and instead, said, “I presume you’re here, because Agent Barnes told me that he was going to bring in a specialist to help us.”

“She’s already done so, Agent Carter,” Bucky’s unexpected statement startled her slightly.

At her puzzled look towards him, he elaborated by gesturing to Dottie. Peggy turned and saw that far be it that the woman was slowly relaxing, Dottie was still standing in a guarded manner. Dottie’s eyes were not on her or Bucky – they were on Vera.

“Five dead Widows. She’s still alive,” Bucky stated. “Everything she’s said is the truth.”

Peggy frowned slightly. “How—” she began, but then realization over took her. All the pieces of what Dottie had told her about the Soviet program for ridiculously beautiful-looking women fell into place. It made complete sense as to why Vera Romanova would be reactivated to complete Operation Midnight – and why what happened in Siberia happened.

She returned her attention to Bucky’s mother. “You’re the first Black Widow,” she couldn’t help but say.

But there was something wrong – and Peggy’s gut was telling her that. “What’s the price for your help, Ms. Romanova?”

“She takes Underwood away, and rehabilitates her,” Bucky answered.

“Do I have a choice in this?” Dottie spoke up, taking a step closer to Peggy, but kept her eyes on Vera.

“No,” Bucky answered. “But it’s better than what the SSR would’ve potentially done to you, had we handed you over to them instead. Or set you free to run for the rest of your life.

As angry as Peggy was that Bucky did not consult her about the price for this help, she knew that she couldn’t fight it. She had authorized Bucky to bring in his ‘partner’ from Operation Midnight.

“Five of your sisters are dead, Dottie,” she said, turning her attention to her. “Sixteen are still out there. You’ll be safer with Ms. Romanova than remain here, or anywhere else.”

She saw Dottie thin her lips, clearly unhappy. But with the choices presented, going with Bucky’s mother was the best option. She just hoped that she was making the right choice, as she barely knew a thing about Bucky’s mother – other than what she had inferred, and what little Bucky had told her about his mother.

“Agent Carter,” Bucky spoke up after a few moments of silence, gesturing to the grandfather clock that still surprisingly remained standing. “It’s almost time.”

Peggy glanced at the clock – the full test of the time-traveling device was about to start. She needed to be there, but knew that Bucky wanted to as well. She glanced over at him, but there was clearly some other things he wanted to say to Dottie and his own mother – without her there.

“I trust you’ll get this all sorted out and cleaned up? I’ll contact Mr. Stark about the property damage, myself.”

Bucky silently nodded, before saying, “Go. I’ll be there shortly.”

Somewhat reluctantly, Peggy nodded, accepted her gun back from Dottie, and left.

* * *

_Late Afternoon, Brooklyn Facility…_

Nervousness and excitement was evident on all of their faces – the full integration test had been successful. Rather than wait a day as originally planned, Steve had said that he was going to attempt to return the power stone.

There was a seriousness in his eyes that Peggy had not seen in a while. Even Howard and David were nodding in agreement, and she saw relief in their eyes with Steve’s declaration. As much as she wanted to demand what had happened while she was gone, she didn’t. They had much more to worry about, and _when_ Steve returned, she would get the full story from him.

She was determined not to doubt that he would not return.

“Be safe,” she said as Steve stopped before her, clad in his strange armor.

He grasped her hands, and for a brief moment, they were in a world of their own as his beautiful eyes captured her own. Steve surprised her with a brief kiss on her lips, before stepping back.

“I will,” he said.

The door to the laboratory opening and closing caused both of them, and the others to look up. Bucky had finally arrived. There was nothing in his eyes to suggest that anything else had happened after Vera had taken Dottie away.

Steve let go of her hands and stepped away. Peggy briefly watched as her husband met Bucky at the foot of the stairs, and explained what was going on. She couldn’t help but glance over at her brother, seeing hurt appear briefly on his face before it was masked into an uncaring look.

There was nothing she could say to refute Michael’s words about Bucky. Bucky had cheated on Michael, even if it had not been with Dottie Underwood. All she could ask the two was to remain professional to each other whenever they were together – to try to work together until Steve completed his mission.

She returned her attention onto Steve and Bucky, seeing Steve embrace Bucky for a brief moment before letting go. For one strange moment, Peggy thought that the embrace was a little closer, and a little more affectionate than what she had seen happen between the two before.

She mentally shook her head to dislodge the strange thought. Steve had told her that he let Bucky stay in his room the night that Michael and Bucky broke up – that he couldn’t just leave his best friend to misery alone.

Or injury. Peggy had seen the aftermath of Bucky punching the tiled wall in the shower area of the locker room. She had tried to cover it up before Michael could see it – but had failed.

At the present, Peggy focused her thoughts on the test ahead. Guiding Bucky back to where the others were gathered, she saw Steve reach out and grasp Michael’s hand, briefly shaking it. Then, Steve was done with his temporary farewells.

Stepping up to the platform, Peggy watched as Howard stood by the switches to activate the machine. There was a piece of paper with Tony’s explicit instructions in Howard’s hand. David stood by the lever for the guillotine that would cut the wires connecting the prototype arc reactor to the rest of the apparatus. Those wires would only be cut if catastrophic failure of a component was about to happen.

“Ready?” Steve said, glancing over at Howard.

Howard began flipping the switches before looking back up. “Ready. Good luck, Steve.”

“How long will it take?” Bucky suddenly asked.

“A few seconds here in this time,” Steve said. “And as long as I need to put that stone back where it belongs. 2014 Morag, here I go.”

Peggy saw him tap out something on the underside of his wrist. A split second later, _another_ armor, off white with black and red trim, and a strange-looking helmet enveloped him. There was a logo stamped on the side of his shoulder, and above his left breast – stylized in an arrowed ‘A’.

Before any of them could ask a question with regards to this new armor, Steve winked out of existence. Peggy nearly jumped, as beside her, both Michael and Bucky had astonished looks upon their faces. Bucky had taken only one step forward towards the platform, before Steve winked back into existence.

But Steve did not return alone – a noxious smell accompanied him, along with something that looked like a lavender goop of sorts. It covered his formerly pristine white armor, and Peggy was not the only one to gag.

“What the hell is that smell?!” Bucky exclaimed.

“Not a damn word, Nat,” Steve spoke, his voice tinny and slightly muffled as Natasha appeared a few feet away from the platform. “Not my fault it thought I was a possible tasty meal.”

Peggy raised a hand to her nose and pinched it. She tried to breathe shallowly through her mouth, but she could still smell it. Natasha was merely shaking her head with her arms crossed over her chest. She was also rolling her eyes at Steve in annoyance.

“Yeah, but you didn’t have to do the whole Jonah and the Whale thing,” Tony exclaimed, appearing as well, though he was near Howard and David. “Quill’s an idiot. You could’ve left him as-is, and that creature wouldn’t have eaten him anyways—”

“The hell happened to you, Steve?” Bucky interrupted.

Steve was in the middle of retracting the off-white armor while stepping off the platform. The lavender splotches fell to the ground in meaty chunks behind him. She saw Steve give them a rueful smile, before casually saying, “Sorry about the mess and smell. I’ll clean that up—”

“Steve!”

Peggy was not the only one to scream his name in fear, as a towering ape-like beast wielding an enormous axe suddenly appeared _**behind**_ Steve. Her heart didn’t even get past two beats when the creature gave a rumbling, earth-shaking roar – and attacked.

~*~*~*~


	14. Resonance Cascade – Part 4

**Chapter** **9** **:** **R** **esonance Cascade – Part** **4**

For a single moment in time, Steve, the ape-like beast, and the enormous axe swinging down at Steve were frozen in action and reaction. In a blink of an eye, the axe crashed into the ground—

But Steve was no longer there.

Bucky gaped for a split second, as he saw Steve whirl around the hulking creature, and struck several punches and kicks – almost impossibly faster than he could follow. It was the creature rocking away from the device, and towards the entrance that snapped him out of his fugue.

He leapt towards Steve’s shield on the table, and curled his metal hand around it. Whirling, he threw the shield as hard as he could at the head of the beast. It struck, knocking it further back towards the entrance.

Bucky saw Steve immediately take advantage of the creature being severely unbalanced. Even before Bucky had a chance to rush in, Steve had snatched the shield from its wobbly trajectory, and slammed it into chin of the creature.

Sliding down into the deep crater formed by the falling axe, Bucky only had a split second to react as he saw Steve toss the shield at him. Grabbing it, he immediately danced and dodged his way into and past the wild swings of the creature’s axe. Slicing the shield as hard as he could, he cut across the tendons of the creature’s ankles.

A flash of blue at the corner of his vision had him tossing the shield back up to Steve. Rolling and scrambling away from the creature falling onto its knees, he heard the crackle of metal being split by metal.

Half of the axe – the broad blade end – came falling down. There was a small amount of the staff it had been attached to, that came with it. But it was enough for Bucky to snatch it up with his left hand – and slam it directly into the chest of the creature.

Purplish-red blood and guts from the creature sprayed out, covering him, but he held his ground. Yet, the force of the blow was not enough as the creature roared—only to have it cut short when it suddenly pitched forward. The creature’s momentum and mass drove itself further into the blade. Bucky had to brace himself on the slippery ground with all of his strength.

The beast’s roar turned into a gurgle, and then fell silent.

It was only then, as Bucky continued to hold the axe in place, that he saw Steve step out from behind the creature. Steve had slammed himself and the shield into the back of the creature – to force it into the broken axe’s blade.

With the last of the dying tremors fading away, Bucky finally let go of the broken weapon. He was slightly surprised at just how hard he was breathing. He had not realized just how fast he had been fighting – and Steve didn’t look to be winded at all.

Bucky only had a moment to survey the damage done to the place. Thankfully, it looked as if Peggy and the others had found someplace to take shelter – or avoid a lot of the broken equipment scattered about. But neither he or Steve got to ask if everyone was all right, when the door to the laboratory slammed open.

“What the hell happened, Peggy?”

Bucky stared up at Sousa before looking back at Steve. Yet, as he returned his attention to Sousa, the agent was just looking frantically around, but dared not approach the stairs that would lead him down to the floor. DumDum, Lorraine, and several other 107th personnel entered the facility a few seconds after Sousa.

Bucky swung his eyes back onto Steve. It baffled him as why no one was reacting to the fact that Steve was standing in the crater. Or even to the dead creature’s body right next to him—oh.

Steve’s jaw was set, and there was a concentrated look on his face. Bucky saw that his left hand was curled into a fist. Steve was using the Reality Stone—

“Erm, exploding mice guys,” Bucky shouted up to the others. “Apart from mice guts covering us, and some scrapes and bruises, we’re all okay.”

“No need to panic, Daniel,” Peggy immediately followed up. The others had noticed what he had seen with Steve and the Reality Stone. “Just a small setback, and no celebrations of success before the Christmas holiday, unfortunately.”

“You’re sure?” DumDum asked. “I mean, it was a pretty big ‘boom’ – even from where I was perched, ma’am.”

He saw Peggy look around before focusing her attention back up to those gathered on the walkway. “Yes. Thank you for your concern. We’ll get this cleaned up, but if you could make the proper excuses to the authorities, Daniel?”

“Understood, Peggy,” Sousa stated, nodding once. “We’ll keep them away.”

Bucky glanced back at Steve as the others began filing out. He didn’t like the sheen of sweat covering Steve, nor did he like how pale Steve looked. Neither looked like it had been a result of the fight.

It seemed to take forever and a day for the last of the perimeter patrol to leave. But as soon as the door clicked shut, Bucky saw Steve immediately open his left hand, relaxing—

“Steve!” he shouted.

Bucky dashed forward to catch him before Steve could crash onto his knees. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Peggy attempting to slip down into the crater. Thankfully, Michael had stopped her from doing such a dangerous thing.

Putting a hand to Steve’s forehead, Bucky immediately yanked his hand away. “Jesus Christ, you’re burning up—”

“I’m fine,” Steve said. Bucky braced himself and helped Steve shakily stand up. “Just… wielding two stones at the same time… takes a lot out of me.”

“ _Two_ stones?!” Peggy said, before Bucky could.

“Reality for the projection. Mind Stone for the angles that I needed to maintain the projection from various perspectives,” Steve huffed slightly as if he were out of breath. “I’m all right, Peggy.”

He saw those blue-green eyes of Steve’s focus on him. “I’m all right,” Steve repeated.

Bucky wasn’t reassured, but he didn’t press. It didn’t sit well with him, that for one frightening moment, Steve looked almost as frail as he did _before_ the serum. Even if his best friend was being a stubborn mule, Bucky still kept a firm grip on Steve’s arm.

“Nat?” Steve called out after a few moments.

Bucky looked around – Natasha did not appear. Even as Steve called out again, neither did Tony. While it was reasonable to think that the two had disappeared back into the Soul Stone when the creature attacked, and when Steve used the stones, them not appearing even after a few seconds was a little worrying.

“Nat, are you—” Steve began.

“Fine, Steve,” Natasha stated, appearing a couple of feet away from them.

She looked just as dirty and bruised as both he and Steve. Bucky couldn’t help but wonder if an internal fight had happened—

“That’s Cull Obsidian,” Steve said, turning slightly and pointed to the dead creature with his free hand. “What is he doing here? I thought he was on Thanos’ ship when they were transported to 2023.”

“He was,” Natasha answered. Bucky heard the careful tone in her wording, and it seemed Steve had not missed it as well. “He slipped through the barrier. Ripping the Power Stone away left a hole that I couldn’t repair fast enough. I’m sorry.”

Bucky looked back and forth between Steve and Natasha, as silence fell between the two. After a few seconds, a determined look settled on Steve’s face as he raised his head slightly and asked, “So what the Power Stone initially told me _is_ true. I’ll take you some place to kil—”

“Don’t, Steve,” Natasha warned. Bucky’s sense of danger spiked for a moment with the venom and anger behind that warning. “That’s not you,” she continued to say in a calmer tone. “This is _my_ ledger. My responsibility. Not yours.”

As confused and feeling as if he had missed something significant between the two, Bucky remained silent. He remembered the ledger discussion in the morning after Steve revealed the existence of the stones. It had something to do with the barrier, and her ability to repair it as a resident of the Soul Stone. But there still was a missing piece not known to him.

The silence that fell among them didn’t last long as a sudden circle of swirling fire appeared to their left. The entity known as Ghost Rider walked through it, startling those standing at the crater’s edge who had never seen it before. Strangely enough, Bucky saw both Natasha and Steve frowning – neither had expected the entity to show up.

Yet, Ghost Rider calmly walked up to the dead creature, and suddenly unraveled the chain wrapped around his shoulders. The chain whipped through the air, trailing fire after it, before lashing itself around the creature.

A sudden conflagration erupted around the creature, followed by the overwhelming smell of burnt flesh. But as quick as it had appeared, it and its broken weapon disappeared, leaving almost no physical trace that something had been there. The smell was gone as well.

Ghost Rider then wrapped the chain around himself again, before turning his attention towards the three of them. Bucky wasn’t sure if he was imagining it, but he thought the entity gave them a single nod of its skull-on-fire head, before disappearing into another circular fire. It winked out of existence a moment later, leaving everyone baffled.

“Did he just clean up the messy part of the mess?” Tony’s sudden appearance where the creature had been, and quip broke the tension in the air.

Tony looked almost as roughed up as Natasha, though it was Natasha who said, “I don’t like this. Ghost Rider just doesn’t come and leave as he pleases.”

“I don’t either,” Steve spoke up.

Bucky glanced over to see him looking stronger, and less pale and sweaty than before.

“But we best leave it alone for now,” Steve continued to say.

* * *

_L_ _ate at night, December 25_ _th_ _…_

The sound of the main doors leading into the laboratory quietly opening and closing caused Steve to draw his hand away from the sarcophagus. He glanced up to see Bucky enter and pause on the landing. Snow was covering him, and there was a slightly puzzled look on his face.

Michael, David, and Howard had spent Christmas Day with him and Peggy. Bucky had not, but Steve did not begrudge him for that – the tension between Michael and Bucky was palpable. As soon as Michael had arrived, Bucky had left – and Steve could only assume that he had spent it with his family. But for Bucky to return so late was a little puzzling. Steve would’ve thought him to not return until the morning – to spend the night over with his family.

Wordlessly, Bucky quietly descended to the floor, but did not draw his thick, woolen grey coat off. The fedora also remained on his head as he approached, leaving a slight trail of wet spots that would be dried by morning.

“Need me to find some place else to sleep for a few hours?” Bucky unexpectedly asked.

It took Steve a moment to realize what Bucky was implying and why. He, Steve, was wearing a robe over his pyjamas, and comfortable slippers. Peggy’s car was still parked outside, and thus Bucky thought to give them privacy for more… intimate matters.

“No,” Steve answered, shaking his head. “Peggy’s sleeping, and I can’t. So here I am, wandering around here at Christmas night like a ghost.”

“Spirit of Christmas Present, more like it,” Bucky quipped, smiling as he began to shed his coat.

On impulse, Steve reached out and plucked the fedora from Bucky’s head, surprising him slightly. Instead of dusting the snow off, Steve gathered it into his hand, and lightly threw it at Bucky.

“Punk,” Bucky said, grinning before he flung his coat at him, scattering the spray of snow and droplets of cold water in the area.

“Jerk,” he playfully retorted. “Sorry,” Steve continued, handing the fedora back, as he wiped some of the droplets off his face. He returned the fedora to him. “It’s been a while.”

“Uh huh,” Bucky said, giving him a dubious look. “It would be a little unfair now to have a snowball fight, especially with your improved aim and height.”

Steve laughed a little – it had never been the two facing off against each other whenever throwing snowballs. Bucky always made sure that he, Steve, was always on his team whenever the other neighborhood children decided to have a fun-filled day for the fight.

Steve was forever grateful for that.

“Are your family doing well?” he asked after a few moments.

“Yeah, I guess,” Bucky answered, shrugging slightly. “Spent the day at Becca and Peter’s place. She and Mom haven’t been getting along these past couple of weeks, so I thought I’d spend it with her instead of the rest of the family.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Steve said.

He reached out and clasped his hand around Bucky’s shoulder, and briefly squeezed it. He could hear the melancholic tone in his best friend’s voice.

In all of the times that he had spent at Bucky’s home when they had been growing up, Bucky’s mother and sisters had made him feel incredibly welcomed and inclusive to their family. Mrs. Barnes had always sent him home with a small bowl of leftovers – if there were any from dinner – or with cookies.

Of course, Steve made sure he gave his mother the food, especially the cookies. It was all he could do, besides trying to keep up with his school work, to help his mother and her demanding job as a nurse.

When he and Bucky began rooming together in their own apartment, Mrs. Barnes occasionally visited them after dinner. More than once, she brought her homemade, delicious cookies for them. There was one time though, that she had visited during the day, and patiently taught him how to cook a few dishes.

It also just so happened that all the dishes were Bucky’s favorites.

Steve still wasn’t sure what to make of Mrs. Barnes selecting certain, but ultimately a variety of dishes for him to learn. But, that cooking skill had ended up being the most useful thing he had, when the Commandos were deployed. It kept the spirits of his men up; that they could eat a decent meal while at war.

Nevertheless, during the months when Bucky was at Army training, Steve remembered Mrs. Barnes coming over almost every day – worrying about her son. He could do little to reassure her, or Bucky’s sisters of Bucky’s safety and health, and commiserated with them.

The Barnes, even without their patriarch, were a close-knit family. To hear of an argument happening that was enough to not have the family together on such an important holiday, was depressing.

“There’s only so much we can all do,” Bucky’s comment drew Steve back to the present.

However, just as Steve was about to let go of Bucky’s shoulder, he heard him say, “Then I went to go talk to Michael.”

There was nothing in Bucky’s eyes or expression that told him the results of the chat. So Steve waited patiently for him to continue. After a few seconds of silence, Bucky then said, “It went… better than I had hoped.”

“So, you’re back together?” Steve couldn’t help but ask.

Steve hadn’t exactly taken his brother-in-law to the side to admonish him for emotionally hurting Bucky, but neither did he just glare at Michael. Instead, all he had stated to Michael was that right or wrong, he would always take Bucky’s side.

It wasn’t quite the words, but it was his actions at the silo in 2016 that cemented his resolve to defend Bucky until the day he died. Whatever Bucky did to cheat on Michael with a CI, Steve was sure there was a reason or reasons. He knew that his best friend never did anything for a mission without weighing the consequences.

It was just who Bucky was – the one willing to get his hands dirty enough so that others could sleep at night.

Steve hated it, but the years that he spent in the future – working for SHIELD, running and leading missions with the Avengers, being on the run, and destroying what HYDRA-Soviet brainwashing things were left – shattered a lot of his more idealistic thoughts. HYDRA and Zola just harnessed that drive from Bucky, and twisted it to suit their own purposes.

_It wasn’t me. But I still did it._

And Steve knew then, that he would be the only one who truly understood what Bucky’s words meant. After everything they had been through and sacrificed, it was all either of them had left to give.

Bucky had given it all in 2018, to try to stop Thanos – and had died for it.

“No,” Bucky began, giving him a slightly puzzled look, as Steve focused back on the present again. “But you say it, as if it had been a bad thing to begin with.”

Steve slid his hand from Bucky’s shoulder to the side of his arm. “I just want you to be happy, Buck.”

_You **know** what makes me happy_.

But Bucky never said those words that Steve hoped to hear. Instead, he heard him say, “I’m… I’ll be happier, once all of this is over.”

Steve slowly withdrew his hand from Bucky’s arm, as he saw him turn slightly and rap his knuckles on the sarcophagus. “This, and the serum changed everything.”

He saw the edges of Bucky’s lips quirk up in a smile. “When I was commissioned as an Agent, the first thing I did was read the file they have on you, Steve. The assessments, evaluations, scores from the written and physical tests, everything.”

Bucky looked over at him, palm resting on the sarcophagus now. “It’s all numbers and words. It didn’t capture who you were. If this cover of ours – this serum re-creation – becomes real, how are they going to choose the candidates? There’s no Dr. Erskine to make that moral choice. It’s all politics and numbers to them.”

Steve remained silent for a few moments, before reaching out with his left hand to place it next to Bucky’s own, on the sarcophagus. He then held Bucky’s eyes with his own, making sure that Bucky saw his intent, as well as heard them.

“We’ll cross that bridge when the time comes,” he stated. “You and me. Together across that bridge.”

“Steve—” Bucky began, slightly alarmed.

Steve dropped his arm and sighed.

“May we...” he began. “May we talk about this in your room?”

He saw the concern flit across Bucky’s face. Not a moment later, Bucky gathered his coat and fedora that was draped across his right arm, a little more tightly before silently nodding. Together, they ascended the stairs, and made their way to the other side of the facility.

Entering Bucky’s room, Steve drew out one of the two chairs that Bucky had at his workbench table out, and sat in it. He watched as Bucky threw his coat and hat towards the coat stand – both landing with precision in their places.

“So what’s going on, Steve?” Bucky asked, as Steve saw him make his way over to the small filing cabinet that had been converted to a make-shift dresser.

Steve sighed. “I have to go active duty again once this whole time-traveling thing is done. It’s the agreement I made with Philips in exchange for keeping this a secret.”

Bucky had paused in removing his sweater over his collared shirt, and glanced over at him. Bucky remained silent for a few long moments, before Steve saw him briefly glance away with a disappointed look on his face.

“I thought as much,” he heard him say, before coming over – undressing himself into more comfortable clothes forgotten. “Senators and their committees unceremoniously ousted him after the war ended. You’re his bargaining chip to get back into their good graces.”

“I won’t be active duty with the SSR, Buck,” Steve said, reaching out to pull the sweater off of Bucky’s arms, as Bucky sat down heavily in the other chair.

Steve held onto the sweater for a moment as he continued, saying, “Philips had to pull a lot of favors, promises, and bargains to get the Joint Chiefs to agree to let Howard try his hand at creating the serum. I’m supposed to be the ‘end product’ for the military. Like I was supposed to be, the minute I emerged from the sarcophagus. I won’t be allowed to live my life as ‘Steve Rogers’ anymore.”

“What the fuck?” he heard Bucky softly swear. “What the hell—”

“I don’t know what alias the Joint Chief, or whomever the orders come from, are going to give me,” Steve continued, unable to stop himself now that he started. “But I go where they tell me to go. I strike where they tell me to strike—”

“Steve,” Bucky interrupted.

Steve felt him grab a hold of both of his arms, having gotten up from where he sat, and was now kneeling down in front of him. Bucky was not squeezing hard, but Steve could hear the audible whine of Bucky’s metal arm.

Those darkly oceanic eyes of his best friend stared up at him. “Steve, you _can’t—_ ” Bucky began, looking horrified and desperate. “How the devil— **why** did you agree to this?!”

He was unable to hold the piercing look in Bucky’s eyes, and looked down. He picked at Bucky’s sweater, still sitting in his laps and within his hands.

“The Joint Chiefs don’t know I’m alive,” he quietly stated. “It’s just what Philips promised to them, because they held two files over his head – and by extension my head as well.”

Steve looked back up. There was no warmth of courage from Natasha coursing through him. The ‘time GPS’ wristband had been left in a small box within his room for today. But even without a bolstering of courage, Steve knew that he had to see his explanation through.

“Yours and Peggy’s files,” he said. Before his best friend could protest, Steve continued, saying, “Philips thought it cowardly for them to employ blackmail. So he and I secretly agreed to another deal between ourselves.”

Bucky gaped at him, letting go of his arms as Steve saw him blink a few times in utter surprise. “What?” Bucky asked.

“The Joint Chiefs and their demands are Philips and mine’s cover,” Steve explained. “Lorraine has been and still is ferreting information from DC through her contacts there. We need to get the physical files they have on you and Peggy out of their hands and burned – if at all possible. Then, we both go public with the reorganization of the SSR into SHIELD. We’re going to try to bring everyone out of the political machinations of lawmakers who think that the only way they can fight nuclear fire is with more nuclear fire.”

Silence fell between them. There was an utterly shocked look on Bucky’s face. Yet, the first question out of his mouth was not what Steve expected.

“When the hell did you get so politically devious? And what have you done to my best friend?”

Despite himself, Steve couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Steve, I’m being serious,” Bucky said, sounding slightly exasperated. Steve felt Bucky’s grip on his arms loosen, but Bucky still did not get up from where he was kneeling.

“Sorry,” he said, sobering up. “The years I spent in the future were my primary teacher,” he said. “And, though I didn’t want to admit it then, I learned from the best there – specifically from Director Fury. I want the SSR to survive, but being used as a political tool is just going to hurt everyone in the long run. There are times where people in the world cannot wait—”

“Steve, you’re preaching to the choir,” Bucky gently interrupted, letting go as he placed a warm, comforting hand on his shoulder. “I know, and I agree. But why now? Why tell me now? Does Peggy know? Howard? David? Or even Michael?”

“Not yet,” Steve admitted. “I wasn’t supposed to tell you either, but…” He sighed, as he couldn’t help but mutter, “I suppose it’s a good thing that that’s why I kept getting assigned as Fury’s janitor to clean up SHIELD’s messes.”

“You’re too honest, Steve,” Bucky said, withdrawing his hand before lightly thumping Steve’s chest with his fist. “But, I wouldn’t have seen that kind of political maneuvering from you. To be fair, it’s a little blindsiding.”

“I still have to go public with being alive,” Steve said, “but it’s for a much better reason than what the brass was thinking of doing.”

“But the files are still in DC, right?” Bucky asked, serious. “Just say the word, or hell, if you’re not comfortable, have Philips issue the order—”

“No,” Steve interrupted, alarmed. His hand shot out, cupping the side of Bucky’s face in slight fear for what Bucky had almost suggested.

“No,” he imploringly repeated. The last thing Steve wanted was for Bucky to assassinate – accidentally or otherwise – any US citizen in DC, as he had done as the Winter Soldier.

That was another life.

Another time.

The assassin that Bucky was now, had choices – knew what he was doing and why. Chose to do so, and Steve did not hold that or anything else he had done here and now, against him. But this agreement he had with Philips had to be done carefully.

“Neither you or Peggy should go anywhere near DC,” he said.

As much as Steve wanted to just continued to hold his hand at the side of Bucky’s face, he didn’t. He had captured the angles, lines, shadows, and shades of Bucky’s face so many times before, that his own imagination had conjured up what it would feel like to do such a thing. To attempt to be daring at the age of twenty and—

Steve slowly drew his hand away, and sat back.

Those unrealized dreams of his were a lifetime ago. Before he had met and fell in love with Peggy. Before he had taken a leap of faith with Dr. Erskine. Before the war, and before—

Absently, Steve folded Bucky’s sweater, and mentally refocused himself. He said, “Lorraine going to DC is a possibility, but they may know her face from the war. There might be one person who may know, but that’s only because Nat and I have read her file before.”

Steve paused for a moment, before saying, “Nat told me that you and Peggy captured Dottie Underwood.”

“Well, so much for trusting her to keep secrets,” Bucky muttered, annoyed.

“It wasn’t difficult to link your CI to Underwood, Bucky,” Steve said. “Nat just confirmed.”

“I suppose it wasn’t difficult,” Bucky admitted, nodding in agreement.

“Do you trust Underwood?” Steve asked.

It was Bucky’s turn to look down and away, as he saw his shoulders sag. He saw him slowly get up and sit in his seat. Wordlessly, Steve handed him his sweater.

“If you’re thinking of bringing her into all of this, and sending her to DC, don’t do it,” Bucky answered, folding his arms across his chest. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t trust her.”

Uncertainty flitted across Bucky’s face, surprising Steve. But that uncertainty was short-lived, as he saw the familiar resolve and determination settle.

“There’s a mole within the SSR’s ranks,” Bucky unexpectedly stated. “Specifically in SSR-Europe.”

“Shit,” Steve couldn’t help but softly curse. He ignored the slightly surprised and raised eyebrow that Bucky gave him.

“Underwood told Peggy and I this, and the command words or phrase to active the mole,” Bucky continued after a moment. “She says that the mole has a secondary personality implanted within him or her, that will wipe out the primary personality, when the phrase is stated. Peggy and I were cleared. Romanov was there, and she didn’t kill either of us. We’ve also secretly cleared all personnel at Brooklyn, including the 107th.”

“Why SSR-Europe?” he asked.

“Underwood said that the mole has been in our ranks since the war. Everyone, except for Peggy in today’s HQ didn’t serve in Europe, Steve,” Bucky explained.

“Philips,” Steve began, realizing the implications. Yet, it wouldn’t make sense for his former commander to be such a thing—

“The command’s in Russian,” Bucky supplied, noticing his uncertainty. “I highly doubt Philips is the mole, but I’m guessing you’re going to need to make a long-distance phone call to let him know that I’ve been read into your operation. I can vet him then.”

“All right,” Steve agreed, nodding. “But Underwood is a Black Widow. I admit, it took me a couple of years to trust Natasha with my life, but that was only because of the dire circumstances we faced. I don’t recall either you or Peggy facing anything that drastic – apart from Cull Obsidian showing up.”

“Which you’re still going to have to explain that one to all of us, Steve,” Bucky pointed out.

“Nat won’t tell me, and I’m not going to force her to do so,” Steve answered. “But she did say it is unlikely to happen again.”

“Unlikely.”

“Not the point, Buck,” Steve said. “So, how did you and Peggy decide to take Underwood at her word? I mean, for all we know, she could be under orders from her handler to cause chaos in the SSR ranks with this kind of rumor.”

“The thought did cross my mind many times,” he heard him mutter, before seeing him shake his head. “But it was another who convinced me,” Bucky said, unfolding his arms and letting them rest on his lap. “My mother.”

Steve stared at Bucky, complete baffled.

“She was the first Black Widow they trained,” Bucky stated before he could say a word. “She defected, with my father’s help, from Imperial Russia – and fled when the revolution happened. And she was the one who helped me complete Operation Midnight.”

Bucky paused for a moment, as if carefully choosing his words. “Her real name is Vera Romanova. I don’t know if she had been active before the war. But since then, she’s been active in her own informational gathering, and vetting of people close to her and her family. She’s turned two Soviet agents against their country, and killed countless of others – including the Widows we faced while behind the lines. She didn’t kill Underwood when she had the chance. It’s why I trust Underwood’s words.”

Steve wanted to stand up, close the distance, and embrace Bucky. He heard the despair in his tone, even if stoicism remained on Bucky’s face. He wanted to tell his best friend that it didn’t matter if his mother had been a Black Widow – that he was who he was – James Buchanan Barnes.

But, he didn’t stand up – at least not yet. Ever since Steve had learned Russian to read the files on the Winter Soldier that Natasha had given him, the memories he had of the war – of the SSR’s interactions with the Soviets never sat well with him.

Steve had never got a chance to ask Bucky about them – at least not in the future.

“Estonia,” Steve began after a few seconds of silence. “I can’t tell the differences with the accents, but Colonel Rostov did, didn’t he?”

“You remember—” Bucky began, blinking in surprise. “Wait, when did you learn Russian? And why?”

“The future,” he simply answered. “It’s not important.”

“My accent,” Bucky reluctantly answered. “My mother taught Russian to me with a specific kind of accent. She told me to hide it, because of her heritage. So I did. At least I tried to. Rostov being a complete asshole made me slip.”

Silence fell between them, but Steve didn’t let it linger long. “Then the command, or phrase. What is it?”

“Дождь – вселенной голоса,” Bucky said.

“It sounds lyrical,” Steve couldn’t help but state, frowning. It was nowhere near, or like the commands that governed the Winter Soldier.

“There’s more, Steve,” Bucky’s statement brought him back to the present. “Remember when I asked you about this ‘winter soldier’ thing?”

Steve tried to mentally brace himself for yet another deluge of memories, as he nodded once. Yet, he couldn’t help but feel a little more apprehensive than he usually did. Especially with the knowledge of a single phrase to wipe out a personality and replace it with another.

He thought what the Soviet and HYDRA did to Bucky was inhumanely horrific – this sounded even worse.

“Underwood kept calling me ‘the Winter Soldier’ - as if it were a title of sorts,” Bucky said. “Then she compared my current state to what sounded like another Soviet program: Wolf Spider. My mother and I never found information on either of those programs. Only the Black Widows and what went into creating them. Do you have anything from the future that could help?”

He wanted to say ‘no’ and be done with any further discussion about the Winter Soldier. But Steve knew that it would be a disservice to Bucky – to everything that he had put his life on the line for, in the past year-and-a-half.

“At present, nothing for the Winter Soldier,” he said. “But I’ve never heard of Wolf Spider.”

“Would Romanov know?” Bucky asked.

Steve couldn’t help but shrug. It covered his relief that Bucky was not pressing for further information about the Winter Soldier – even though Steve had left a direct allusion to the fact that it was a Soviet program that he knew about.

“Nat?” he called out.

She appeared a moment later, giving both of them a rather exasperated look. “Heavy conversations on Christmas? Really, Steve? I’m surprised you haven’t already upbraided him for this, Barnes.”

“Habit,” Bucky surprisingly stated, shrugging.

Steve knew it was a bald-faced lie, but he wasn’t going to call his best friend out on that. Instead, he said, “I hope I’m not conjuring bad memories for you, but have you ever heard of Wolf Spider, Nat?”

Natasha blinked a couple of times before saying, “It wasn’t talked about a lot during training. It got mentioned only once when one of the girls asked why boys weren’t trained the same as we were. The matron told us that it had only a single candidate, who failed at his duty. Whatever that candidate had done, was enough to shutter the program. Why? Did Underwood call you that, Barnes?”

“Nat,” Steve began, annoyed.

The last thing he wanted, was for Bucky to be denigrated into the basest terms of what apparently was the male equivalent of the Black Widow Program. A seductor who used sex as a disposable weapon against targets.

Steve knew that Natasha had wielded and molded the Black Widow title into her own after defecting. Bucky didn’t have either this ‘Wolf Spider’ or the Winter Soldier reputation on him now – he was his own person.

“Yeah,” Bucky answered. “Which means, that Underwood has possibly met, or heard of the Wolf Spider. We know she was active during the war.”

“But it’s a failed program,” Steve said, furrowing his eyebrows. There was an uneasy feeling blooming in his stomach – and it was not just from the fact that there was a mole in the SSR’s ranks.

“Failed in the future,” Bucky pointed out.

“Not here, not now,” Natasha finished up. “Shit. She wasn’t referring to you in particular as the Wolf Spider, Barnes. She was telling us that the mole in the SSR ranks _**is**_ the Wolf Spider.”

* * *

_The next day…_

Peggy couldn’t help but smile as she heard the light conversations interspersed with the sounds of things being hammered or moved around the laboratory issue through the earpiece she wore. It was only because of the noise in the laboratory that she worked at the front of the facility – the casting studio store front.

There was a closed sign, and the lights were off. Only a desk lamp was shining on the paperwork that she was currently reading and making notes on. Damage assessments, repair costs, and a report needed to be written and securely delivered to Philips. Then, the cover story of that had to be filed with Thompson.

Steve had offered to let her use his room as her office for the day. But, the curtained window had proved to be too distracting for her. She found it too easy to idly watch her husband working on the floor, as if she were a voyeur.

It had surprised her in the morning, when Howard, David, and Michael had showed up to continue repairing the place, and working on reconstructing the time-traveling device, that Bucky had not left. Instead, there seemed to be a more calm and not as tension-filled air between Michael and Bucky.

It was only Steve’s murmured “They talked it over” that she understood what may have happened. Forgiveness may not have been given between the two, but her brother and Bucky were willing to continue to work together. Albeit it was more professional and distant between the two now.

At present, it had been Howard, who had surprisingly engaged Bucky in a conversation relating to welding or something. That had led into a discussion of ships at the Brooklyn Shipyards. Peggy couldn’t help but quirk up the edges of her lips in a smile as she heard Bucky say over the two-way radio:

“Yeah, helped with the construction of several Brooklyn-classed cruisers: _Brooklyn,_ _Savannah, Nashville, Phoenix, Honolulu,_ and _Helena_. Call it a promotion, I then was put on the team to build the _North Carolina_ – start to finish. She was a battleship the likes I’ve never seen before. I only got to work on parts of the _Iowa_ and the beginnings of _Missouri_ before enlisting, but damn – those three ships were something to behold.”

“He likes big ships, he cannot lie,” Peggy heard Tony sarcastically mutter over the radio.

Natasha’s groan of exasperation was audible, but there were a couple of puzzled, “Huh?”

“Never mind,” Tony said a little louder. “Pop culture drought here.”

“Maybe you should’ve studied up on the 40’s or 50’s, Tony,” Steve lightly stated, seemingly trying to contain his laughter.

“Oh, and you’re going to tell me that you’ve seen _Rebel Without A Cause_ , Rogers?”

Peggy tuned out whatever else was being said over the radio, as she returned her attention to the paperwork she needed to completed. Though Boxing Day was not a US holiday, she had given the team an additional day off. It also gave those in the know of the actual work being done here, a day to catch up on any work they needed to do.

Apart from Lorraine, who was still up in Connecticut visiting extended family, Howard seemed eager to take advantage that he didn’t have to split his time between cover work and actual work. With what happened a few days ago after the first trip with the machine, there were some safeguards that they needed to put in.

Peggy was worried about the fact that Steve had used two stones simultaneously – and after a terrifyingly brutally fast fight against whatever Cull Obsidian was. It seemed to hurt him, more than it helped him. Despite his insistence to not worry, she couldn’t just not do that. Yet, after a few hours of rest – he looked his usual self.

She had so many questions, and so little answers. And she knew that she was not the only one who had questions. But Steve seemed reluctant to talk a lot more about what he faced in the future, other than related to returning the stones.

Sighing, Peggy put aside the report, and uncovered the small note that Bucky had slipped to her this morning. She had not time to read it – until now.

[ _S knows about U._ ]

Peggy frowned slightly. While the statement was blunt and to the point, it was the underlying meaning that worried her. She and Bucky had kept the knowledge of the mole from the others to not cause unnecessary panic and suspicion.

Bucky could have easily taken her to the side earlier in the morning and told her the same information. But the fact that he didn’t, meant that when Steve found out about the mole within the SSR ranks, some additional information had been discovered.

Taking her aside would have involved a longer conversation than the normal morning brief he usually gave her. That may have caused the others to become concerned – and it told her what Bucky discovered was concerning enough that he wanted the others to have the full briefing on Dottie Underwood.

When Steve found out about Dottie Underwood was a slight mystery to Peggy. But she wouldn’t have put it past for her husband and Bucky to have had a late-night, or ridiculously early morning discussion.

She had, after all, woken up to find that Steve was not sleeping in their bed. Instead, she had found him standing next to the sarcophagus that had helped physically transform him into Captain America.

“Ma’am?”

Peggy looked up, muted her line, and turned down the audio output of the radio as she saw David with a mug of freshly brewed coffee in his hands. He handed it to her, and grateful, she took it, murmuring her thanks. But, he didn’t immediately leave, and looked slightly hesitant – as if he wanted to say something else.

“David,” she began. “What is it?”

“Ma’am, I just wanted to say that my assessment is still preliminary, and I am unsure if my analyses are correct, or that the results are accurate—”

“David,” Peggy interrupted, reaching out and gently placed a calming hand on her friend’s arm. “Please.”

“Ma’am,” David began again.

“Sit, David. What’s wrong?” she asked.

Slowly, and nervously, David took a seat. While she knew him to be on the shy side – even more so than Steve had been – this nervousness did not seem like any sort of shyness attributed to what she perceived as his usual causes of his shyness.

He briefly wrung his hands, looking down at his feet before seemingly found courage from somewhere to look up again. “I think the stones are emitting gamma radiation. Non-lethal amounts if, say, the Tesseract is sitting there idly, and if used in a short burst – such as what Howard and I did to harness its energy for the prototype arc reactor.”

“Go on,” Peggy prompted as David fell silent.

“I learned some protocols to detect the beginnings of radiation sickness when I was working on my thesis, ma’am. Acute and sudden fever, followed by disintegration in cellular composition follows – which is dependent on the level of exposure. HYDRA’s weapons worked the way they worked by disintegration because they expelled a lethal amount into the human body. Dense materials, such as steel or the vibranium shield stopped it,” David explained.

He paused for a moment, weaving his hands together as he grimaced slightly. “I think Captain Rogers was briefly suffering from sudden onset acute radiation sickness, when he used the Reality and Mind Stones together,” David softly stated.

Peggy remained silent. She clearly remembered the terrified look that had overtaken Bucky’s expression, the minute Steve collapsed. Yet, Steve had insisted that he was fine. He had climbed out of the crater by himself with his injuries already mending.

Using the six stones together had killed Tony – she couldn’t deny not seeing that from Steve’s painful memories. But she knew that she could not depend on one point of information for the whole of the picture. They knew little to nothing about the Stones – only enough to understand that they were dangerous.

Yet, Peggy also understood why David had come specifically to her to speak about it. Emotionally, she and Bucky cared deeply about Steve. But objectively, she knew she had a more level-headed countenance about her than Bucky.

During the war, she had clearly seen Bucky get riled up even more than Steve was, whenever it involved protecting Steve. Had David gone to Bucky with the same information that he presented to her now, there was a fair chance that Bucky would’ve overreacted.

She knew that there was no stopping her husband when it came to defending the stones – they had all witnessed it first hand when Cull Obsidian attacked. But with armed with this knowledge, Peggy hoped that she could temper Steve’s usage of the stones – and try to take measures to prevent the usage of two stones at once, again.

“I can try to convince him—” she began.

“You have to, ma’am,” David insisted. “The serum…I know not how Dr. Erskine created it, but I don’t know if it can withstand, repair, or does what it does to keep Captain Rogers alive. If he uses two stones at once again, and especially for a longer period of time.”

“David,” she said, reaching out and placed her left hand over the top of his, to stop him from wringing his hands together. “Thank you for letting me know. I worry for him as well, but I can only try. Please keep watching him when you can, monitor the levels, and let me know if anything changes.”

Reluctantly, David nodded before he stood up. Peggy watched him leave, buzzing him back into the facility. It was only after the door closed that Peggy let the shuddering breath she had held back throughout the conversation, go.

She wanted to cry.

Not in anger or despair, but because she knew that when she told Steve about the likelihood of radiation poisoning, it would do little to convince him to stop his mission. Peggy knew that he would insist on completing it – no matter the cost.

Even if that cost meant his life.

* * *

_Later in the day…_

It was a little dramatic, but it got everyone’s attention.

Dumping the five vibranium swords onto the table that had held Steve’s sketches of the Avengers and their enemies, and diagrams of the various ‘time heist’ locations, made a dull ring. The sketches were stored within a folder, but that was not the point that Bucky wanted to make at the moment.

“Vibranium,” Howard commented, as they gathered around the table, staring at the swords. “Where did it come from?”

“We were about to ask you, Stark,” Bucky said. “You told us that you had the only ore Wakanda had.”

“Yeah,” the inventor stated, absently stroking his chin in thought. “But who did these belong to? The craftsmanship is remarkable. I’ve never seen precision work or details like that before.”

“It belonged to five Black Widows. Highly trained female Soviet agents,” Bucky stated, withdrawing his sidearm and ejected the clip. He also ejected the lone bullet sitting in the chamber before putting all three pieces down on the table.

“They were hunting a former colleague of theirs, another Black Widow aliased as Dottie Underwood. She had a sword just like theirs, except the SSR got a hold of it, and smelted it into a coating around the bullets,” he continued to explain.

Bucky picked up one of the swords with his right hand, and depressed the tiny inset where his index finger curled around the handle. Hideous creatures with jaws full of sharp teeth suddenly surrounded them, causing some alarm.

“It’s all right, they’re not going to attack,” he calmly stated, before glancing over at Peggy. “Peggy?”

Peggy withdrew her sidearm and shot at a creature. Bucky felt a sharp pain lance through his hand – like a stab wound. It looked like one as he felt a small trickle of blood slide down his hand.

“You’re bleeding!” David exclaimed.

“That’s the side effect of using a sword like this, and having someone kill one of the creatures,” he explained, dumping the sword back onto the table. “The SSR has encountered this five times in the past few months – most recently in early November.”

Early in the morning, he had climbed onto the rooftop to perform the experiment – to see what exactly the swords were capable of. The instant he let go, the blood, the pain, and the creatures disappeared.

“What on earth—” Michael exclaimed, looking a little horrified.

“There are sixteen other Black Widows out there,” Bucky interrupted before other questions could be asked. “And the five these came from are already dead. These Widows are difficult to kill, and even more difficult to detect.”

“A reliable source of ours,” Peggy began, taking over, “has informed us that over the past few weeks, there have been some potential threats sniffing about in the area. The five Widows were one of those threats.”

“Since there are sixteen others, and our cover is a casting studio, I need all of you to be extra vigilant whenever you’re not within this building. The other agents and 107th will be briefed on a variant of this information, but it will be relatively the same. If anyone who looks too pretty approaches you, take note, don’t engage, and get away as fast as you can. When you can, let Bucky and I know. We’ll deal with it.”

Almost all eyes were focused on Howard, who gave them a slightly offended look, saying, “Hey, don’t look at me—”

“Howard, you’re a prime target for the Widows. Don’t you even remember that you briefly _dated_ Dottie?” Peggy flatly questioned.

“She was pretty—” Howard began, not at all sheepish.

Peggy wasn’t the only one to groan in exasperation, but Bucky refocused the briefing by saying, “Our source also informed us of two more threats that are more unknown, and not as easy to pinpoint. There is another Soviet operative code-named ‘Winter Soldier’, who may be potentially in the area. This operative may also be augmented by a different operative code-named ‘Wolf Spider’. We don’t know if the Winter Soldier actually exists – no proof has been found. But there is strong evidence that the Wolf Spider does—”

“—and he or she has been within the SSR since the war,” Peggy finished up.

Before a clamor could break out within those gathered, Peggy continued, saying, “SSR-Europe may be compromised, but the extent is unknown. For now, any reports – even the ones for the cover story – need to go through either Bucky or I. We don’t know how much this Wolf Spider knows about what is going on here, the cover story, or cases within SSR Headquarters.”

“And MI-5?” Michael asked.

Bucky had nothing for Michael in reassurance that that organization was kept safe from the Soviet agent named Wolf Spider. There was an enormous probability that Wolf Spider had leaked details of the joint SSR and MI-5 Operation Midnight to his or her handler.

“We’ll vet Philips first,” Peggy said, as Bucky glanced over to see her give a reassuring nod towards her brother. “Once he’s cleared, he’ll get the full briefing. Then we can begin to find out how much damage has been done to both the SSR and MI-5.”

* * *

_Evening…_

“Why the hell did you stop me from telling them about Barnes?”

Steve rinsed his toothbrush out as he saw Tony pace back and forth in the reflection of the mirror above the locker room’s sinks. Natasha was standing a little ways away, watching Tony pace back and forth.

The briefing had been blunt and to the point – and Steve did not blame either Peggy or Bucky for the way they had conducted it. It was the only way to get the point across. He was also incredibly grateful that Natasha had forcibly faded both herself and Tony from the briefing as soon as the Winter Soldier had been mentioned – and that she had apparently gagged Tony from saying anything.

“Because it’s not your story to tell, Tony,” Natasha answered, annoyed.

“Story?!” Tony scoffed. “There is **no** story behind that – no fucking fairy tale! The Winter Soldier—”

“Is not him!” Natasha vehemently followed up, surprising Steve enough that he turned from the sink to see the two almost at each other’s throat.

“Nat. Tony,” he quietly stated, knowing that he had to intervene before things got out of hand. He needed the two to continue to work together, as he sensed that them being barriers were stronger united, than divided.

Bringing his cup and toothbrush over, he sat on the bench and packed them away, before looking up at his friends. “That’s enough, please.”

“Fucking hell, Rogers,” Tony began. “You cannot just sit there, and deny that the Winter Soldier Program is him.”

“Was,” Steve said, taking a deep breath to calm himself. It was clear that though he and Tony had put their past behind and returned to being friends, Tony had not put what the Winter Soldier had done to Howard and Maria, to rest.

“Not anymore,” he continued to say. “Not in this timeline.”

“And how the hell do you know that?” Tony questioned.

“Steve, you need to tell him.” Natasha spoke up, before Steve could say a word.

Steve scrubbed his face once with his hands, removing them as he glanced up to see that Natasha had taken a seat at the end of the bench. Tony was still standing, but was now glowering at him.

“No,” he answered, shaking his head.

“Tony’s right, Steve,” Natasha stated, giving him a pointed look. “You need to verify that he does not have those commands from the red book. Five Widows, Steve. Five Widows attacked Underwood, and they were all activated after her. There’s a good chance that they know—”

“I know, Nat!” he said, angry and frustrated. “It’s just…” he began, curling his hands into fists as he squeezed his eyes shut. “It’s just…”

“Look, Rogers,” Tony spoke up, sounding a little less hostile. “Think of it this way. Loki’s already scampered off with the Tesseract in 2012. That timeline is fucked up. We know HYDRA still exists there. You made yourself a fucking HYDRA agent there. So, fix it.”

“Time jump suit?” Steve questioned, realizing what Tony was implying. “What about Pym Particles?”

“The five swords are enough for me to melt down and make a suit. You have enough to take a passenger on one round trip. Let it be this one,” Tony stated. “But only if you first make sure Barnes isn’t a murderous killing machine.”

“I’ll think of another plan to fix my mistake in 2012—” Steve began.

He knew it was a rather devious plan that fit the way Tony tended to think. But to put Bucky – who was not the Winter Soldier right here and now – into the line of fire in 2012… To drag his best friend into a war not his own, just to save another timeline iteration of himself and Bucky—

“You told me that the two of you made a promise,” Natasha gently stated.

Steve opened his eyes to see that she was sitting closer to him. It looked as if she wanted to reach out and embrace him – promising that he would not be alone like she had done after Peggy’s funeral, but didn’t.

“We’re with each other, until the end of the line,” he murmured.

“Not that one,” she said, giving him a brave smile.

“Forward and together, until the end of the line,” he softly whispered. The promise that he had made with future-Bucky.

“That one,” she said, nodding in understanding. “He let you go, Steve. He knew that you were going to make things right. So go forward, Steve. Let Barnes make the choice to accept the future of what he could have been, or what he will become.”

“And what will he become, Nat?”

Natasha didn’t answer him. Instead, she faded away, taking Tony with her.

Steve sat in silence. He couldn’t help the bitter chuckle that escaped his lips, wondering when his dear friend had become so counselor-like. In response to his stray thought, he felt a warmth bloom within his mind, before it receded. It felt like Natasha warmly laughing.

He looked at his hands, before closing his eyes and tapped the device in a short pattern to activate his armor. The scale-like metal armor that Tony had created specifically for him before they had left on the time-traveling trip, did not cover him. Instead, when he opened his eyes, he saw himself wearing the uniform that he had received from SHIELD upon formally joining them.

As loose and cloth-looking as the trousers were, and as padded the top half of the SHIELD uniform was, the uniform was different than its original. There was a layer of vibranium woven into the uniform – unlike the final uniform Tony designed. That was just outright vibranium armor on full display.

Steve didn’t know why Tony decided to shove all the variations of his uniform into the device. He could only surmise that his friend found it funny, or was bored. Steve put money on the latter, rather than the former for the reason.

Still, he knew he was dawdling, and delaying the inevitable. Natasha was right – Steve could try his damnest to keep the memories of the Winter Soldier away, but it would only cause misinformation to spread. He couldn’t let that happen – they needed to concentrate on finding the mole within their ranks.

Exiting the locker room, he walked across the length of the facility, taking only a moment to pause. He looked out onto the floor at the partially disassembled time-traveling device – and the enormous crater Cull Obsidian left behind. Had Bucky not done what he had done with the axe—

Steve shook his head, and forced himself to continue on. Stopping in front of Bucky’s door, he raised his hand, and knocked.

“Yeah?” came Bucky’s voice through the door.

Steve opened the door and stepped in. He was not surprised to find Bucky sitting at his desk, with what looked like a disassembled sniper rifle covering the table. There was a cleaning cloth in his hand, and several other rags set to the side. Still, the sight of the disassembled sniper rifle was not making this any easier.

“Nice uniform,” Bucky’s quip brought Steve out of his musing.

“One of the variants that Tony somehow stuffed into my device,” Steve said, closing the door. “You got some time?”

Bucky glanced at the disassembled rifle, before returning his attention onto him, shrugging. “Sure. Going to do a personal fashion show thing for me? Heard that they’re becoming popular in circles of wealth.”

As much as Steve didn’t want to laugh, especially at the absurd exaggeration that Bucky parroted of an English noble with a monocle while sipping tea, he chuckled. “No,” he said, shaking his head slightly as he approached, and took the offered seat.

“It looks good on you, Steve,” Bucky said, in a more sincere tone. “Less flashy than what you wore during the war. Or that 2012 memory you showed us. But it can’t be compared to your armor, can it?”

“I don’t know,” Steve admitted. “It was one of the uniforms I wore before, but not the original. Tony somehow weaved vibranium into it.”

He saw Bucky’s eyes widen in surprise, before reaching out to touch a sleeve. “Really?” Bucky asked after a moment, sitting back.

“But that’s not why I’m here, Buck,” Steve said, knowing that he needed to just stop delaying the inevitable. Tony’s plan was one of the most viable plans that the three of them had come up with, to change that timeline for the better.

“I’m going to need your help in returning the Time and Mind Stone—”

“Steve,” Bucky spoke up, shaking his head slightly, frowning. “I’m in. You need help, I’m there to help—”

Steve clenched his jaw for a moment, before saying, “There are some memories I need to show you. Some things in 2012 that I didn’t mention when I showed the memories. Some things that I didn’t have knowledge of during that actual time, and some acquired after that year and applied when I went back to that point in time. I wish that I didn’t have to—”

“Hey,” Bucky said, leaning forward. Steve felt his comforting, warm right hand upon his, as Bucky continued to say, “You’ve had bad experiences, bad memories. You don’t have to show me—”

“It’s not just 2012, Bucky,” Steve said, withdrawing his hand from underneath Bucky’s.

He tried to ignore the concerned and slightly hurt look Bucky gave him. He curled his hands into fists, pressing them down in his lap.

“With this whole Dottie Underwood debacle, and a sleeper agent in the ranks—”

“It’s all right, Steve. Peggy and I have—” Bucky began, trying to reassure him.

Steve adamantly shook his head. It was all going so wrong.

“ **You** _need_ to see the memories, because…” he tried to say. He didn’t want to accuse Bucky of anything, but he also couldn’t let this sit between them. “Because…”

His hesitancy made Bucky sit up straighter. “Memories that you can’t show the others?” Bucky questioned. “Not even Peggy?”

“Memories that I am unwilling to share with anyone but you, Bucky,” Steve answered, feeling Natasha’s warmth flood over him, giving him courage.

“Memories of who you were, in the future,” he continued. “Who you aren’t anymore, right here and now. Memories of you, whom was captured in 1945 by Soviet forces, brainwashed, and forced to serve a homeland not his own for nearly seventy years.”

He paused for a moment, as he felt the Reality Stone slip into his hands. It’s hunger lashed at his mind like an endless storm. “My memories of you; the ghost the intelligence community called the Winter Soldier.”

~*~*~*~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Resonance Cascade arc is finally done! Next time, on CA:AMoT, we begin the Pretender arc…


	15. Pretender – Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Theme: '[Pretender (Winter Mix)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9VHvHjJ-By4)' by Ninja Tracks.

**Chapter 10: Pretender – Part 1**

Steve began with the _L_ _e_ _m_ _u_ _rian Star_ mission.

“After Loki was stopped in 2012, I took a position with SHIELD,” he explained. “At this point, I had been with SHIELD for almost two years, when I, along with Natasha, and a SHIELD elite commando team, STRIKE Delta, were deployed to the _L_ _e_ _m_ _u_ _rian Star_. It was a rocket launch ship, designed to send satellites into space.”

“Many satellites launched into space were used for scientific purposes – observe the earth, research into the cosmos. But many national defense measures of the major world powers also used satellites for military coordination and spying purposes. SHIELD’s satellites were designed and launched towards that end.”

Steve let Bucky see his entire briefing, to his deployment and securing of the ship. The battles that he had shown of Thanos and fighting with the teams were frantic, desperate, and frenetic – incredibly similar to how he operated during the war.

He saw Bucky’s eyes widen at just how deadly and effective he and the STRIKE teams were. At the brush of Natasha’s warm touch within his mind, he allowed her to show her memories – they were integral for Bucky to understand why and how the fall of SHIELD happened.

The memories of the confrontation between himself and Fury washed over him, as he said, “Colonel Nicholas Fury was the current Director of SHIELD, and was largely responsible for the creation of weapons – big and small – to combat terrestrial and extraterrestrial threats. That included the attempt at creating weapons using the Tesseract – Phase 2.”

“SHIELD was held generally in check by the World Security Council, a committee of representatives from superpower nations around the world. The Insight Helicarriers and their associated satellite systems were selected by the Council members to be built to protect the world.”

_This isn’t freedom. It’s fear._

_SHIELD takes the world as-is. Not as we’d like it to be._

He didn’t show Bucky his memories of visiting Peggy in hospice – those were extremely private ones. Steve did, however, allow him to see what had happened in the last few minutes of his listening in as Sam counseled the veterans group. He wanted Bucky to know that he wasn’t alone in suffering from PTSD – and that there was no shame in asking for help.

He could feel Natasha’s sympathetic warmth wash over him, bolstering him, as he accelerated the memory to nightfall – to when he got home to his apartment in DC.

Steve showed the interaction between him and Sharon, but didn’t dare mention that she was Peggy and Michael’s niece. He hoped that Sharon would eventually be born in this new future and timeline he was carving.

A brief wistful smile appeared on Steve’s lips with the song that played in his apartment. But he had to continue on with the memory. The brief amount of light that showed Fury’s injuries, followed by the sudden explosion of three sniper shots into the Director had Bucky reacting in a similar way to how Steve had initially reacted.

_Do you have eyes on the shooter?_

_Tell them I’m on it._

As the memory of himself chasing the shadow of the sniper across the rooftops cascaded across, Steve carefully watched Bucky. Steve still remembered the raw shock of throwing the shield at the Winter Soldier that night, and having him unexpectedly catching it. No one had done that before, but even as the memory faded to him catching a ride with the EMTs bringing Fury to the hospital, all Steve saw was a slight twitch of Bucky’s gloved metal fingers.

Hiding the USB drive, along with his recall to SHIELD Headquarters, and talk with Alexander Pierce was shown in its entirety. Steve had half-expected Natasha to intervene with her set of memories at this point, but there was nothing from her at the moment.

His fight against the STRIKE teams and their reinforcements in the elevator, along with his jump out from the elevator, and crash into atrium had him wincing slightly again. He knew that he had been extremely lucky to not have broken anything – escaping only with quickly healing fractures and contusions.

Steve plowed on through his memories, until he returned to the hospital.

_I know who killed Fury. Most of the intelligence community doesn’t believe that he exists. The ones that do call him the Winter Soldier. He’s credited with over two dozen assassinations in the last 50 years._

_So he’s a ghost story._

There was still barely a reaction from Bucky, but Steve could see that his eyes were riveted to the memories floating around them. Steve showed him how Natasha taught him to blend in while on the run, hunted by SHIELD. He was not afraid to show the fact that Natasha had kissed him to distract their pursuers.

He didn’t bother showing Bucky the long, harrowing journey to New Jersey. Instead, he started that set of memories when he and Natasha arrived at Camp Lehigh. The discovery of where SHIELD started, following his observations of the three photographs of Philips, Peggy, and Howard, garnered a slight furrow of eyebrows from Bucky.

But when Zola appeared, Steve clearly heard the whine of Bucky’s metal arm spooling up.

“Bucky, Zola is dead.,” Steve said, pausing the memory. “Zola is dead, here and now.”

Bucky didn’t look at him, but Steve could see the cold fury within Bucky’s eyes focused on the image of Zola projected around them. It took a few seconds for the whine within Bucky’s arm to die down. Steve then continued to show his memories, giving Bucky the much needed answer to what happened to HYDRA after the war.

_HYDRA was founded on the belief that humanity could not be trusted with its own freedom. What we did not realize was that if you try to take that freedom, they resist. The war taught us much. Humanity needed to surrender its freedom willingly. After the war, SHIELD was founded, and I was recruited. The new HYDRA grew, a beautiful parasite inside of SHIELD. For 70 years, HYDRA has been secretly feeding crises, reaping war. And when history did not cooperate, history was changed._

_That’s impossible. SHIELD would’ve stopped you._

_Accidents will happen. HYDRA created a world so chaotic that humanity is finally ready to sacrifice its freedom to gain its security. Once the purification process is complete, HYDRA’s New World Order will arise._

“That base, where you found Michael and I, Steve,” Bucky began, voice croaking slightly. “Was that...”

“A base owned by the SSR, operated by a nascent HYDRA,” Steve answered. Bucky was not looking at him, but Steve was not about to coax him to. “...and also by the Soviets,” he finished up.

Steve let the rest of the memory be drawn out. Taking shelter as the base exploded around him and Natasha, along with their escape back to DC, recruiting Sam, and their plan to stop the Insight Helicarriers were shown.

By the time Steve showed him, Natasha, and Sam capturing and interrogating Sitwell, Steve could see tension radiating clearly from Bucky. Natasha’s presence with the Soul Stone expanded to blanket around him, bolstering his courage. The memories both he and Natasha were about to show were incredibly painful, personal, and heartbreaking.

The Winter Soldier exploded into the projection around the two of them – terrifying, menacing, and merciless. Gunfire filled the air, as Steve entwined his memories of the hand-to-hand fight he had engaged in with the Winter Soldier, with Natasha’s own.

It was kill, or be killed.

The whir and whine of the metal arm drowned out most of the other noises. Steve didn’t know if it was from his own memories, or if it was from the fist that Bucky, here and now, had curled his metal arm into.

And then, Steve unmasked the Winter Soldier.

_Bucky?!_

_Who the hell is ‘Bucky’?!_

“You didn’t remember who I was,” Steve whispered in the silence that fell, as he let his memories drift off towards the rescue by Hill, and reuniting with Fury. “HYDRA… the Soviets… they wiped your memory after each mission. I didn’t know what they did, or how they did it, until later.”

He focused his eyes on Bucky, but again, Bucky was not looking at him. Steve didn’t dare reach out towards Bucky. His best friend had turned slightly away.

“Did you...” Bucky began, looking up at the argument that was going on at Fury’s hideout.

_Stop all of them? Stop you?_ Steve wanted to finish and say out loud, but did not. “Yes,” he stated.

He accelerated his memories to show him what happened during the Helicarrier fight, and call to arms within SHIELD. Natasha again, intertwined her memories of the World Security Council, providing much needed context.

Violence and desperation filled the second fight between him and Bucky – especially at the part where Bucky shot him several times. Steve could still feel the phantom pain lancing through him, but did not stop the memory.

_You know me!_

_No, I don’t!_

_Bucky, you’ve known me your entire life. Your name is James Buchanan Barnes—_

_Shut up!_

_I’m not going to fight you. You’re my friend._

_You’re my mission. You. Are. My. Mission._

_Then finish it, ‘cause I’m with you, until the end of the line._

“You dragged me from the Potomac, and then disappeared like the ghost you were,” Steve quietly stated.

“Natasha shook up some of her contacts in Kiev. She gave me a file with some details on what the Winter Soldier Program was, and what was done to you. The rest of what little information about the program there was, came from what she and Fury released to the public.”

“Sam and I searched for you for two years, in between our missions for the Avengers. We couldn’t find you until someone deliberately put your name into the public’s awareness.”

Steve began the next set of memories with the Avengers’ mission that had caused the Sokovia Accords to be proposed, and ratified by nearly the entire world. Steve showed Bucky the arguments between all of the Avengers at the compound.

“Peggy passed away during this time,” he quietly stated, as he briefly showed him a portion of that part of his memories. The rest were not for anyone else to see.

“I was in London for her funeral, when this happened in Vienna,” Steve said, as Natasha’s memory of the UN meeting in Vienna burst forth.

But the aftermath was what Steve directed. The image of Zemo disguised as Bucky, along with Sharon’s information about Interpol, and Bucky’s location in Bucharest was shown.

_Do you know me?_

_You’re Steve. I read about you at the museum._

_I know you’re nervous, and you have plenty of reason to be. But you’re lying._

_I wasn’t in Vienna. I don’t do that anymore._

_Well, the people who think you did are coming here now. And they don’t plan on taking you alive._

_That’s smart. Good strategy._

_This doesn’t have to end in a fight, Buck._

_It always ends in a fight._

_**You** pulled me from the river. Why?_

_I don’t know._

_Yes, you do._

The teams breached the apartment, and all Steve heard was gunfire, grenade explosions, and the squawk of exclamations again. The chase, escape, and his trying to defend Bucky from being killed was his memories being shown, alone.

Natasha hadn’t withdrawn her presence, but neither was she bolstering it. Steve knew that she still thought that he should have done this a different way – less messier than what he had turned it into.

But it was Bucky – and Steve had and still would do anything for him and to protect him.

As Steve continued to show the memories up to the point of Zemo beginning his interrogation, he was a little glad that he hadn’t known the transformation words back then. Right here and now, Steve was confident that he had gotten to the HYDRA facility in time to rescue his best friend.

“Zemo transformed you back into the Winter Soldier,” Steve spoke up, just as his memory showed the facility plunging into a blackout. “There was a red book he used. It contained conditioning words. But without the rest of the apparatus, it didn’t work as well as he hoped it would. Knocking you out brought the real you back.”

He didn’t dare mention that he thought he had seen Bucky warring with some part of himself while trying to escape the facility – especially during the confrontation at the helicopter. Steve showed him the memory of Sam winching the press against the metal arm, and Bucky waking up – confused, somewhat coherent, but a mess of muddled memories. There was enough of his old self in there for Steve to reach for, and trust though.

_I am not the only Winter Soldier._

After the memory of Bucky describing the other five Winter Soldiers and the aftermath of their conditioning was shown, Steve spoke up, saying, “Howard managed to recreate the serum in 1991, but the Soviets stole it. They used it on their people. It made the other five Winter Soldiers violently unstable… insane. They were put into cryogenic sleep and left at the Siberian facility. With time against us, I recruited some friends of mine to help stop Zemo.”

Steve wasn’t keen on showing his memories of the fight at the airport, but he did so anyways. Natasha’s presence remained constant, but again, she thought it could’ve gone so much differently. With the rest of the team remaining behind and urging both him and Bucky to go, Steve plowed through the aftermath of the airport fight.

The silo was still as eerie as it had been for him in 2016, and in his memories. But Steve saw no recognition of the place in Bucky’s eyes. As the memories of their careful exploration of the silo played out around them, Steve kept an eye on his best friend.

He showed Tony’s arrival, along with their discovery of the core of the silo, Zemo’s deliberate trap, and the video that showed the death of Howard and Maria Stark. It cascaded into the violent fight between the two of them versus Tony.

_He’s my friend._

_So was I._

Steve was not apologetic about showing the fight. He needed Bucky to understand here and now, it didn’t matter who Bucky was – he, Steve, would always have his back. And, he hoped that Bucky would forgive him for showing these memories, even if he needed him to understand who the Winter Soldier had been – and was not anymore.

Tony’s words about the shield, about how his father had built it, still stung. The dull ring of the shield landing on the floor of the blast tunnel seemed like a loud gong. But Steve didn’t let it last long, as he closed his memories, and slowly opened his left hand.

The Reality Stone was gone, back in its compartment – sated and satisfied again.

“An ally of ours offered us shelter,” he said, staring at his left hand. “I didn’t stay. It wasn’t safe for either of us to remain together. I also wanted to find and destroy as many of the old Soviet-HYDRA facilities as possible. You eventually chose to go back on ice, wanting a cure – a way to get those commands out of your mind – before you were willing to—”

“Stand trial?”

Steve snapped his eyes up. Bucky’s eyes were on him, and he could plainly see the heartbreaking hurt within them. The faint whir of the metal arm, along with Bucky’s hands curled into fists, told Steve just how tense Bucky was.

“No,” he said, shaking his head once. “To live.”

The silence that fell between them, punctuated by the noise of the heating within the facility and distant horns of cars, was uncomfortable. The whirring of Bucky’s arm was the loudest sound in the room.

“You were cured by the time Thanos attacked, but…” Steve began, but could not bring himself to go on.

_This has been a grave mistake._

“I’m sorry,” he said, immediately getting up. He could not meet Bucky’s eyes anymore – not when he felt so guilty, so ashamed of himself for ruining the new lives that both of them had. “I shouldn’t have done this. I shouldn’t have shown you this. It’s all a mistake—”

Steve forced himself to snap his mouth shut, as he turned and headed towards the door. Before he could reach for the handle to open it, the silver glint and _shtunk_ noise of a combat knife landed just an inch above where his hand was.

He half spun around, startled. Bucky’s eyes were now completely unreadable, even as Steve saw him lower his still-gloved metal left hand from throwing the knife. Yet, those ocean-like eyes of Bucky’s were not blank like he had seen and experienced before when fighting the Winter Soldier.

“What are the commands, Steve?” Bucky quietly asked.

“No,” Steve adamantly stated, shakily reaching for the door handle. “You don’t need to know—”

Impossibly, or because he was still ashamed of what he had done, he didn’t even get the door open more than a crack, before it was slammed shut. Bucky’s left arm was pressed up against the door, holding it close by force.

Steve was pinned against the door itself, some of it by his own will, most of it by just how close Bucky was standing in front of him. Their noses were nearly touching each other, hot breaths licking this way and that, despairing blue-green eyes meeting unreadable oceanic grey-blue—

“What. Are. The. Commands.”

Bucky had punctuated his question with a jab of his right index finger into Steve’s chest. Each forceful expulsion of his words seemed like fire upon Steve’s face. But there still was no blankness within Bucky’s eyes.

“I can’t—” Steve began, feeling hopeless.

“Goddammit, Steve,” Bucky said. There was a flicker of desperation that he saw in Bucky’s eyes. “I remember, Steve. I _remember_ what Zola did. What Ivchenko did. What they did to fucking _embed_ those commands—”

Horror turned into ice-cold fear, blooming in Steve’s stomach. Bucky in the future had not remembered. Or if he did, never wrote it down in the various journals that Steve had been allowed to read. This was worse – so much worse—

“You’re not—” Steve began, desperately hoping he was wrong.

He **had** gotten to Bucky in time.

September 24th, 1946 **had** been the correct date—

“You don’t know that,” Bucky cut in, eyes flashing in anger. “You know the commands,” he heard him say, despair coloring his tone. “Steve, _please_. I need to know…”

Steve thought that it couldn’t get any worse, but it did. Bucky had removed his left arm from the door, and had drawn up the blade he had thrown. The flat of the blade was pressed against his chest, as Bucky said, “Please.”

Mercy kill.

That was what Bucky was asking him to do. To say the commands, and if Bucky truly was the Winter Soldier returned, to kill him right then and there—

“I won’t,” he said, stubbornness and anger bubbling up from the fear within him. “I saved you once, Bucky, and I’ll do so again.”

“And leave me what? A broken shell of who I used to be?” Bucky hissed. “My other self in your timeline let you go. To make things right. You said so yourself that there was little commonality between us left. I’m choosing right here and now –I _need_ to know—”

“You are _**not**_ the Winter Soldier, Bucky!” Steve exploded, yanking the knife out of Bucky’s grasp, and flung it away from both of them.

“Then say them!” Bucky roared.

Movement beyond Bucky caught Steve’s attention for a split second, but it was too late—

“желание, ржaвый, семнадцать, рассвет, печь, девять, добросердечный, возвращение на родину, один, грузовой вагон,” Natasha unexpectedly fired off in rapid succession.

* * *

_The next day,_ _D_ _ecember 27_ _th_ _, 1948…_

“Is everything all right between you and Steve?”

Peggy looked up from typing out the official cover report of what happened with the ‘exploding mice’ on the 23rd. Michael had taken a seat across the table, pushing the various sketches of the Avengers and their allies off to the side.

“Yes,” she answered, slightly puzzled as she removed her hands from the keys. “Why?”

Her brother didn’t immediately answer her as he glanced over to where Howard and David were working. She followed his gaze, noting that there was concern not just in his eyes, but on his face.

Tony was a little ways away, working on something that had required him to detach the five Black Widows’ blades from their handles. The handles were laid out in the corner of the table she worked at, but it looked like Tony had smelted the blades using energy from a backup prototype of the arc reactor.

Steve was currently standing next to Tony, doing something at the station Tony worked at. She had seen Michael attempt to approach, but had been angrily waved away by Tony. It was Steve’s kinder, but still firm request to stay away that made Michael leave.

“There’s a lot of technology that we shouldn’t even have knowledge of, right here and now, Michael,” Peggy spoke up. “I know you’re curious. I am as well, but it may be for the better if either of us don’t know what Tony and Steve are doing. Everything will be back to normal once all of this is complete.”

The look that her brother gave her was a little doubtful. Sighing, she couldn’t help but smile slightly, saying, “Or as normal as anything can be.”

As disheartened as she was, especially with the news from David of possible radiation sickness being a side-effect of using more than one stone, she wanted to keep a good outlook. They had already returned one stone – and Steve had returned to this point in time a few seconds after he left.

Cull Obsidian was something of an aberration, but with safeguards and more improvements being put into the device, she was certain that there would be no repeat of that happening. Steve had reassured her that Natasha had said it was unlikely to happen again.

“I think Steve might be telling Bucky more about all of this, than either of us,” Michael quietly said, as she saw him return his attention onto her. “There seemed to be something different between the two of them, since this morning. Closer, perhaps. More intimate.”

As much as she wanted to say that Michael was looking at it from a lens of heartbreak and betrayal – especially from the relationship he and Bucky had had – she didn’t. She knew that some of it was colored by that, but she had seen what Michael had described.

Except that it felt different to her – a possible fundamental shift in the foundation of what bound Steve and Bucky together.

“I think they might’ve had an argument,” she said.

Michael was still grieving for the loss of his close relationship with Bucky. As much as Peggy could comfort him, she also knew that her brother knew that Bucky was devoted to Steve. That whatever Bucky did in his life was for a singular, core reason. Ruined relationships – especially intimate ones with others – came with that kind of devotion.

“Argument,” Michael repeated, not believing her words.

She gave him a simple look, folding her hands together. “You know what you were getting into Michael.”

“Do you?” he answered.

He didn’t hiss is words at her, but she did hear the challenge behind his tone. She hated arguing with him, especially when it concerned the men she had dated prior to Steve. He had supported her relationship with Steve – especially during the war. But it was clear that his break up with Bucky was coloring his views at the moment.

Michael was jealous – plain and simple. Peggy could not remove him from the project, or send him home.

Howard had Jarvis as his bodyguard. David _needed_ one while abroad. Michael was one of the few that MI-5 currently had, who was qualified to be a bodyguard. All other bodyguards employed through the Home Office were assigned to other domestic persons of interest.

It was only through Lorraine via Philips that she had learned just how many attempts on several nuclear physicists lives had been had. When it was not assassination attempts, it was attempted recruitment through blackmail or other means, that Soviet agents tried to acquire physicists and engineers.

It was easier for her to remove Bucky from the project than Michael, but she would never do that. She needed Bucky here – not just because of Steve – but because he had the skills set for the work they needed to do. It was only because of those skills of his that they had captured Dottie Underwood, and discovered information about an active mole within the SSR.

“Michael,” Peggy began.

She didn’t get to say anything further, as the sudden clatter at the corner where Steve and Tony were working drew all of those present’s attention. Peggy quickly stood up from where she was sitting, as she saw Steve immediately take a few steps away from Tony—

~~~

The scuffling of snow and ice on the rooftop, and the appearance of Natasha at the corner of his peripheral vision was all the indication he needed to not react to her as if a threat. It didn’t help that after what happened last night, Bucky was…

‘Jumpy’ was not the right word.

For all of his expanded vocabulary – courtesy of Becca’s love of the English language – Bucky couldn’t find the right word to describe himself at the moment. But he was still on duty, on patrol, and on the ice-and-snow covered rooftop. Thus, Natasha’s noise of arrival, and careful appearance were welcomed.

Muting the radio, and making doubly sure no one could hear him or her, he wrapped a spare piece of cloth he carried to clean his scope around the microphone, before shoving it into a pocket. It was obvious from Natasha’s appearance, that she wanted to talk.

“I bullied Steve,” he admitted out loud, as he took a step back from the parapet. “I verbally bullied him. Some fucking friend I am, for being the one thing he hates above all else.”

“To be fair, Steve was being a stubborn ass,” Natasha stated, taking a seat on the cold ground. For a few moments, he watched as she idly traced a figure-eight pattern in the snow.

Then, she looked up at him, saying, “He didn’t want to tell you about the Winter Soldier. It was Tony and I who forced him to do so, because he’s going to need your help. You’re going to have to travel with him to 2012—”

“And pretend to be the Winter Soldier?” he questioned, looking up and around. “Why the fuck—”

“Because to get the Mind Stone, he perjured himself. He made Rumlow, Sitwell, everyone we knew who was a HYDRA agent after 2014, think he was a HYDRA agent in 2012,” Natasha stated.

“The fuck?” Bucky swore, glancing down at Natasha. “Fucking hell,” he couldn’t help but mutter in realization.

In order to preserve that cover Steve had inadvertently created, the Winter Soldier had to be there to reinforce it.

Steve was a terrible liar. It was a complete miracle that those in 2012 had believed him to be a HYDRA agent. Now, his best friend was stuck in a bind of his own making – a mistake that shouldn’t have been there in the first place.

“My other self,” he began, realizing that there was also an opportunity to enact change. But, with all things considered, it was rather heavy-handed to do so.

“Tony and Scott failed to acquire the Tesseract in 2012, necessitating Steve and Tony to travel to 1970 to get the Tesseract there,” Natasha explained. “So yes, if you’re thinking what I think you’re thinking – Steve’s going to do what he does best, when he returns the Time and Mind Stones.”

“Take down HYDRA in 2012,” Bucky finished up.

It need not be said that if he and Steve failed, their counterparts, their other selves in that timeline, were going to bear the brunt of the horrific consequences.

“Pretend to be the Winter Soldier,” he couldn’t help but mutter, as he glanced around again, before focusing back on Natasha.

It was then, that he noticed the tiny amount of fear in her eyes. He had seen it countless of times before, but had thought it fear for Steve or something else. Now, he realized that it was fear _of_ him. Of what he almost could have been—had been.

“I’m sorry, Romanov,” he softly said.

He did not reach out towards her, or step closer to her as he had done before when flirting with her. She had flirted right back, but it was now obvious to him that it was a coping mechanism. It had been a way for her to ease her own fears of him no longer being the Winter Soldier.

“You’re not the Winter Soldier now, Barnes,” she solemnly answered, before she gracefully stood up. “It’s why Steve kept refusing to talk about the Winter Soldier – or show those memories to you. Tony and I forced – we bullied him to reveal those memories. I hope you’ll forgive us and him—”

“There’s nothing to forgive, Romanov,” Bucky answered, shaking his head slightly. “I don’t know if you were listening to us last night—”

“I can’t,” she said. “Only when I’m visible. I can sometimes feel strong emotions from Steve through the stones. There was a spike, which is why I showed up.”

“Regardless,” Bucky continued, “I remember, Romanov. I see, I hear, and I keep remembering the nightmares of being held by Zola and Ivchenko. Having my memories examined, extracted, manipulated, and shoved back into my head. They kept calling me the Winter Soldier – just like Underwood. So there’s nothing to forgive. I would’ve begun to severely doubt myself, had you and Stark not pushed Steve to show me those memories.”

“How many?” Natasha asked after a few seconds of silence.

“All of them,” he answered.

Her simple, vague question was enough for him to understand that she had worked with him as the Winter Soldier before, before defecting. She knew the conditioning commands, and the stop commands that Ivchenko had buried within him.

“All of them except for the final command: грузовой вагон,” he continued.

“The linchpin command,” she murmured.

Silence fell between them, but it seemed Natasha was content on standing next to where he stood, on the rooftop. She seemed not bothered by the cold, snow, or wind, and instead, had a contemplative look on her face. Bucky left her alone, and returned his attention to the horizon, looking out for any unusual activities in the distance.

“It was… difficult, working with you,” she spoke up after a few minutes. “Both before and after. But, I’m glad Steve got there in time.”

He glanced down, seeing a solemn look in her eyes and expression. “And I’m glad you were there, to help Steve through everything, Romanov,” he answered.

“Natasha,” she insisted. “Or Natalia, if you’re more comfortable with that.”

“Bucky,” he answered, the edges of his lips quirking up in a slight grin, at her raised eyebrow. “Or James, if you want.”

The genuine smile that split across Natasha’s lips was short-lived. She frowned as she turned her head towards the rooftop entrance. “Something’s going on down stairs...” she began, tilting her head slightly.

“Lock down?” he questioned, taking the microphone out of his pocket, but did not unmute it just yet.

“No, I don’t think so,” Natasha answered, getting up. “But I’m getting an odd feeling from Tony.”

“The stones?” Bucky asked.

David had told him about the frightening manifestation of the Power Stone – the day of the test activation of the device. It had been the reason why Steve had returned the Power Stone only hours later, instead of cautiously waiting to make sure everything about the time-travel anchoring device came back green.

Just before she faded away, he heard her say, “Get below as soon as possible, James.”

~~~

It wasn’t Tony anymore.

Where Tony had been was a glittering green statue that was vaguely in the shape of Tony. Judging by the coloring, he could only presume that it was the Time Stone – another of the stones he had never used before.

Yet, unlike the Power Stone manifestation, Steve could not see Tony anywhere. He took another few steps back as the stone began to march forward. It wasn’t quite melting – more like it was a slow rock slide cascading down a mountain – while taking on a new visage.

By the time Steve made it to the middle of the floor – safely, he hoped, beyond the time-traveling device – the Time Stone had shed it’s green crystal ‘skin’. He was looking at himself – before the serum had transformed him.

“What the hell—” Michael began.

“Stay back!” Natasha’s sudden appearance in front of Steve, caused the Time Stone to stop approaching.

The unease in Steve’s stomach rapidly disintegrated into outright horror as he saw the Time Stone begin to split. His old self remained, but the new crystal structure that was shedding its ‘skin’ was turning into a young girl who looked no older than nine or ten.

Except that the girl had blood all over her white nightgown, and an enormous gash that split the center of her chest. Steve didn’t know what he was looking at – and only the agonized whimper of Natasha told him that it was related to Natasha’s memories.

“Oh, God,” David’s soft, agonizing exclamation broke the relative silence.

Steve saw that both Howard and David were being ‘herded’ from where they had been working on the device, towards where he and Natasha were. The Time Stone was manifesting more people – more frightening visages plucked from time itself.

Howard’s older self – bloodied as he had looked the night he died, was slowly walking towards Howard. A somewhat familiar young man being revealed by the shedding of green crystals, was taking deliberate steps towards David.

He turned to see that Peggy and Michael were facing the same things as well. Frail and old Peggy crowded around her younger self. There was a young man pushing towards Michael, clutching his own arm that looked to be ripped off.

At nearly the same time, a clamor was beginning to grown among the manifests. Steve heard himself talk, but he couldn’t even understand what was being said. It was getting louder and louder – the expressions on the visages’ faces uglier and more vicious.

And the stone itself was still directing all of its manifestations.

Steve knew that he could summon Mjolnir from his room. He could call upon the lightning to eradicate the threat of the Time Stone, but he didn’t know what that would do. Yet, he could not let any part of the Time Stone touch him, or anyone else—

Eerie silence suddenly blanketed the floor.

The Time Stone screamed. It’s maw of sharp, crystalline likeness for a mouth was open wide, but not a sound was heard. All of its visages were still surrounding them, mouths moving, still saying words that they could not understand – but there was no sound.

Steve saw the stone take a deliberate step forward while raising a fist up towards someone. His eyes traced the path of where the fist was being directed. Hidden half in the shadows of cast by the lights was Bucky – and only a portion of him, along with the sniper rifle he held, could be clearly seen.

That rifle was pointed directly at the Time Stone.

The stone silently screamed again, and took another threatening step towards the stairs. Yet, it didn’t seem to be able to manifest anything that was reflective, or time-related to Bucky. The Time Stone was clearly angry.

Steve tried to shout – tried to call out for Bucky to get away, but the silence remained. He could feel his mouth moving, his vocal cords shouting, but there was no sound – no noise. He still could not move from where he was – the manifestation of his skinny self kept stepping into his path, caging him.

He tried to wave Bucky off. Except when Steve raised his arms, the manifestation of himself lunged towards him—

The loud _crack_ Steve had expected from the sniper rifle firing never came. All he saw out of the corner of his eyes was the crystalline green structure of the Time Stone rocking back for a moment, before shattering into millions of shards.

They glittered and glinted beneath the lights of the facility as they fell rather elegantly – as if within an hourglass. As soon as the last shard touched the ground, all the manifestations turned into dust, puffing out of existence.

A cacophony of noise came rushing back, but that loudness was short-lived. Steve reached out to steady Peggy as he saw her stumble, looking bewildered and confused. She was shaken, but silently nodded to him that she was all right.

Steve looked around, seeing the others recover as well. Where the shards of the Time Stone had been was Tony, looking as startled and as confused as the rest of them.

“The hell was that—” Howard began.

Steve wasn’t paying attention to his friends’ questions, as movement out of the corner of his eyes drew his attention up to the walkway. Bucky had slung his sniper rifle across his back, but in his left hand was ungloved, and curled into a fist.

There wasn’t a blankness in Bucky’s eyes as he descended the stairs to the ground floor, but it was unreadable. Yet, Steve felt a tiny prickle of apprehension as he realized what was curled within Bucky’s hand – the Time Stone itself.

Whatever had happened, it was clear enough that the stone had somehow escaped confinement.

When Bucky was two steps away from him, Steve activated his armor. It quickly bled over him, and a moment later, he opened his armored-covered left hand. Bucky stopped and raised his silvery left hand over his.

The ethereal green stone fell between their hands.

* * *

_Nightfall…_

It wasn’t so much aversion to what he now knew about himself – or at least many other iterations of himself, that Bucky knew what he had to do. It was more hesitation that he hadn’t immediately sought out Steve, until now.

Natasha’s explanation could be blamed for the resolve beginning to lodge in his thoughts. But he attributed to what he had seen on the floor of the facility earlier for cementing it.

Were it not for the fact that Ghost Rider had shown up as soon as Natasha had disappeared and _told_ him what was going on, Bucky would have called for a lock down of the facility. That, and the rather unambiguous and blunt statement from the entity that because of who his host was – he, Bucky, was the only one able to ‘temper’ the Time Stone.

Bucky thought the Time Stone’s multiple manifestations was more nightmarish and frightening, than the Power Stone. He knew he was also not the only one to take its manifest at face value – that it needed to be returned soon.

He had seen the various manifestations, ranging from Steve’s pre-serum self, to what he thought could have been Natasha’s first assassination. Thomas Hattersfield, David’s friend who died to save him, had manifested. A frail, old visage of Peggy, and a bloodied one of Howard had both manifested as well.

Michael’s manifestation had been an unknown young man, except that Bucky had seen a part of that young man’s arm ripped off. He only knew of the young man in the vaguest sense, due to Michael telling him what happened at Dunkirk in 1941. Michael had lost his best friend and first love, during the evacuation to a torpedo ripping apart the rescue ship. All Michael had recovered of his best friend was an arm.

They all had manifestations – except for him.

And it was only then, that Bucky realized what sort of role Ghost Rider played in all of this. The thing that possessed himself from another timeline, another reality, was outside of time. The Time Stone could not affect any iteration of himself.

It was a heady feeling, but it also made Bucky feel sick.

In the short amount of time he had held the stone within his metal left hand, Bucky had **seen** countless of realities and timelines, and of himself within them. He knew what he had to do – not just because of what he had seen, but because he _needed_ to.

Raising his flesh-and-blood hand, he gently knocked on Steve’s door. Footsteps approached and a moment later, the door opened. Steve greeted him with a variety of dark smudges that looked like charcoal, on his face, arms, and hands.

What Steve looked to be wearing this late at night didn’t look like pyjamas. The clothes were old, covered in paint residue, charcoal, and chalk. Beyond him, Bucky could see that he was working on some artwork that was fairly enormous – given that he couldn’t see the table, and only saw paper.

“Hey, Buck,” Steve greeted, cautiously, hesitatingly.

“Hey, Steve,” he answered.

It seemed that was enough to melt the tension that stood between them since last night. Steve broke out into a warm smile, full of hope, but still a little cautious. It wasn’t the sun-bright smile that warmed Bucky, but it was enough for now.

“Wanna come in?” Steve asked, stepping back and opening the door a little wider.

“Sure,” he said, stepping in.

Steve closed the door behind him, and brushed past him. Bucky wasn’t sure if the light, affectionate brush of Steve’s fingers across his back, and down his arm was deliberate or not. But it did leave a small streak of charcoal on the sleeve of his left arm.

Bucky found that streak on his arm slightly amusing. It was also typical of Steve sometimes forgetting just how dirty his hands were from manipulating his chosen media.

“Working on something big?” Bucky asked as he approached the table to see that Steve had been shading and outlining several shapes of people.

“Working on the sketches of all the Avengers made me want to put it all together,” Steve said, stepping back and gesturing for him to take a closer look at what had been drawn thus far. “For posterity’s sake, and possibly when my own memories of another lifetime begins to fade.”

Bucky’s eyes traced the beginnings of what he knew of as the ‘core’ team of Avengers: Tony, Steve, Natasha, a man named Bruce Banner, a demigod named Thor, and a SHIELD agent named Clint Barton. This was the first drawing that he had ever seen Steve self-portrait himself into.

Beyond the core team were outlines of others, most of whom were familiar to him from the sketches. The stances Steve drew them in were different from the sketches, but still just as familiar. It truly had been an enormous team that had fought, sacrificed, saved, and ultimately won against Thanos.

But that was not the reason why he was here.

Bucky looked up and caught Steve’s eyes on him. There was a familiar searching look in Steve’s eyes. It meant that Steve was worried about him, and knew that he was not here for just idle chitchat.

“You all right?” he asked.

After he had returned the Time Stone to Steve, he had turned and left without another word. Even after talking to Natasha, he had still been angry, saddened, and conflicted about what Steve had done. It had taken him up until now, to summon not the courage, but the will to go _talk_ to Steve.

Yet, Steve was the one with an even more enormous burden than he did with memories not of himself or his own. The Time Stone’s appearance and its visages had shaken everyone. He had seen it in the way Howard, David, even Michael and Peggy had walked, as they left the building at the end of the day.

“Yeah,” Steve answered.

His best friend’s tone was short, but there was no anger or irritation behind it. Just a tiredness that seemed to be alleviated only when he worked on sketches, or now with the large composite art piece.

“You?” Steve asked after a few moments of silence. “Time Stone didn’t seem to affect you at all.”

“Because of who Ghost Rider’s host is,” Bucky answered.

The entity didn’t say that he couldn’t tell anyone else. And if this piece of information helped ease a small part of the worry in Steve’s mind, then he would gladly share it.

“Unstuck in time,” he heard Steve murmur, seemingly not needing any further explanation. “We had to go through its… realm or reality… once before. To get to another—”

“Steve,” he interrupted, even though he didn’t want to. But, it was better for him to get it out now, than get into a discussion that would derail his intent and purpose for the visit.

“Natalia told me what you did to your 2012 self,” Bucky stated. “I’ll still help you, Steve, but on one condition.”

“Name it,” Steve said, seemingly not minding the interruption. Yet, Steve’s eyes were not giving anything away in response to his statement.

“Teach me,” Bucky said. “Teach me how to fight. Teach me how to fight like the Winter Soldier of your memories. That title – that name – no longer belongs to the Soviets. It’s mine, and mine alone.”

~*~*~*~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _“You are not the Winter Soldier, Bucky!” Steve exploded._  
>  “Then say them!” Bucky roared.
> 
> I've been waiting months to write that particular scene, and I loved writing every word of it. ^_^


	16. Pretender – Part 2

**Chapter 11: Pretender – Part 2**

_December 28 th, 1948…_

– _00:17 –_

Bucky slammed into the floor with enough force to see stars for a second. Pain blossomed all along the back of his body as he laid on the floor. He hadn’t had this kind of hurt aching all over his body since before the war – when he and Steve had been fighting bullies on the streets.

“Ow,” he muttered, catching his breath.

Steve’s outstretched hand appeared in front of his eyes. Reaching up, he firmly grasped Steve’s hand and was helped up. Wordlessly, they positioned themselves at the ready again – except this time, Bucky was going to be performing the move on Steve.

They had started out with the bare basics – things that Bucky already knew. Yet, he had kept his mouth shut as Steve then broke down even the basics, and showed him the concepts and reasons behind them.

It was eye-opening. Bucky had not needed a demonstration of the simplest of a punch to begin to get some ideas on how to turn everything he thought he knew, upside down.

For the past two hours, he mirrored Steve’s demonstrations – fighting parallel with him, as if sparring against a shadow. Each fluid movement from one stance to the next had gotten faster and faster, until Bucky was sure he could do it with his eyes closed.

Then, they had faced each other for the next set of techniques. That was also when Steve had unexpectedly swiped him onto the floor with a simple instep and quick hook of his right foot around his left ankle. As fast as Steve had done that move, Bucky had seen it – which meant Steve had performed the move in a slower, demonstrative manner.

Bucky was a little winded, and Steve being the smarmy ass he was at the moment, was not. But, the night was still young, and Bucky was determined to keep going at it until neither of them could move anymore.

~~~

– _02:56 –_

“It’s called Krav Maga,” Steve said, as Bucky was pulled up off the ground yet again. “There’s definitely some more advanced techniques that SHIELD’s trainers taught me, but with the basics down, I think we’re making good progress.”

“Yeah,” Bucky said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Progress in making me numb all over.”

He could barely feel Steve’s hand on his shoulder, but felt him pull him close. “Do you want to stop for now?” Steve asked, concerned.

“No,” he answered, dropping his hand as he shook his head. “Let’s keep going.”

There was a second where Bucky thought Steve would not listen to him, but that second passed. He saw it in Steve’s eyes, but that was only a momentary hesitation, before Steve nodded and stepped away from him.

“All right,” Steve said, sliding to a ready position. “We’re going to focus more on the Aikido aspects for now. That good with you?”

“Fine by me,” Bucky answered, standing at his own ready stance.

~~~

– _04:34 –_

Steve laughing a little as he was flipped into the ground with the unexpected move Bucky had managed to spring upon him, was a little disconcerting. But, given that this was the first time he was sparring against Steve, he supposed that it was normal.

Steve had never mentioned that he had trained some of the Avengers. Yet, there had been one or two moves performed by other members of the Avengers – especially the one named Sam – that Bucky remembered seeing from Steve’s memories. What had also not been mentioned was the fact that Steve had also been trained and sparred with Natasha – a lot.

He could see elements of how a Widow fought in some of Steve’s fluid fighting style. But most of what he saw, and what now Steve was teaching him, was so many fighting styles and forms learned and blended, from the future.

“Nice,” Steve commented, as Bucky held Steve down for a brief moment.

Rivulets of sweat dripped and trickled down their faces. They were close enough together that their noses almost touched; breaths huffing back and forth against each other’s skin.

If he really wanted to make sure Steve stayed down, he would’ve rolled him over and twisted his arm up, while simultaneously applying pressure to Steve’s back with a knee. But this was only sparring, and Bucky was still learning.

“Don’t kiss him for getting one up on you just yet, Steve,” Natasha’s casual tone interrupted them.

Bucky blinked in utter surprise at her choice of words, glancing over to see her grinning at them. At nearly the same time, he had let Steve go, unconsciously making sure there was some distance between them.

For the past few minutes, they had been sparring in and around the facility. After nearly six continuous hours of practicing and learning, Steve had determined that he, Bucky, knew enough to begin sparring – to integrate all the separated moves into a fighting style.

They had been careful to avoid the main area where the time-travel device, and the ‘serum workstation’ were. The crater, stairs, halls, and even the locker room had all been fair game for helping him demonstrate the various fighting styles, forms, and techniques Steve had taught him.

Natasha’s sudden appearance was welcomed, as Bucky had a few questions for her. Yet, he had not expected her comment to be of _that_ kind – even if it sounded like it had been stated in jest.

At least Bucky thought it was jest; doubts were humming at the back of his thoughts.

“All’s fair, in love and war, Nat,” Steve answered just as casually, sitting up.

It did not escape Bucky’s notice that far be it from stammering or turning red at such a risque comment, Steve seemed to not be bothered by it. He could’ve sworn that there had been a momentary look in Steve’s eyes that said that he might’ve done it – actually kiss him.

Bucky was again, uncertain and confused.

This was the second time such feelings were welling up within him, and he wasn’t sure what to make of it. He knew that he shouldn’t read more into Steve’s more affectionate actions towards him as of late, but—

“What’s up, Nat? Here to berate the new trainee?” Steve’s lightly stated questions gratefully interrupted the near-circular thoughts going through Bucky’s mind.

“Only if the trainee is named Sam,” Natasha answered, folding her arms across her chest and grinning.

Bucky stood up, extending a hand to help Steve up, who had snorted in laughter. “You know, Sam still hasn’t forgiven you for what you tried to do to Redwing.”

“That thing is a mechanical robot. Not a living, breathing pet, Steve,” Natasha protested. “But,” she began in a more serious tone. “There’s something I want to try – specifically relating to the commands embedded within you, James.”

Bucky quietly sighed as he glanced down at his hands for a brief moment. “The stop commands,” he murmured.

“Nat—” Steve began, concerned.

“Best way to find out just how extensive those fucking bastards went, Steve,” Bucky said, looking up at Steve. Looking over towards Natasha, he said, “All right, hit me with one, or all of them, Natalia.”

“No,” Natasha began, shaking her head. “Go spar. Learn whatever else Steve has left to teach you tonight, James. This needs to be done when you’re least expecting it. I just wanted your permission to do so.”

Bucky remained silent for a few long moments. His joy at learning something new, something that could help him, and finally feeling like he had some control over his life was tempered. He knew that he still had control, but it was all rushing back – the fact that he had been the Winter Soldier.

In another life.

But if he wanted that title, that name, that reputation that had scared the world, and shape it to his own image, he needed to be damn sure he could control it as well. “Thank you,” he said, nodding once towards Natasha.

~~~

– _07:10 –_

Both he and Steve had gotten less than an hour’s sleep by the time they were done for the night. But Bucky considered it well worth the lack of a night’s sleep. The physical exercise, mental clarity that came with it, and breath of learning something fresh and new was as invigorating as the hot shower he had taken in the locker room only a few minutes ago—

“… сумеречный…”

Bucky gasped – at least he tried to.

… _tangling their fingers together for a moment…_

He crumpled boneless to the ground, as a paralyzing sensation seized his body. The towel that had been in his hands as he dried his hair slipped out of his hands. He saw two booted feet approaching him, as he tried to force himself to move.

The stop command had been completely unexpected.

Natasha crouched before him, sympathy written all over her face and eyes. “Come on James,” she said. “Fight it.”

Bucky wanted to – desperately wanted to. He tried to force his body to obey, to get up, to even move a finger, much less his hands. But he was fighting his own body, brutally conditioned to respond this way—

… _for nightfall to bleed into daybreak…_

Daybreak – the sun breaking through the clouds, as he watched through the scope—

“Two minutes, James,” Natasha said.

Bucky could hear the faint shout of Steve, calling out to ask him what type of eggs he wanted for breakfast that was being cooked in the small kitchenette near where he slept. He wanted to answer, wanted to shout, but all he could do at the moment was breathe—

… _all he could do was wait until dusk melted into nightfall…_

Dusk – where he had been cognizant of the noise that surrounded them, hoping that they would not be prematurely discovered by HYDRA just a hill over—

“One minute,” Natasha continued, counting down.

He could hear Steve moving around in the kitchenette. Bucky knew that he needed to _move_ , to not let Steve see him like this. He wanted to prove to himself – to Steve – that he was not governed by the commands. He needed to make a concentrated effort to not be bound—

“Thirty seconds.”

Bucky could hear Steve’s footsteps approach, as white hot anger filled him. Zola had done this – conditioned him to be this way. The man was dead and would not get the last laugh—

“Bucky!”

Bucky hadn’t even heard Steve knock, as he saw, in his tilted world, Steve’s feet approaching. He saw him kneel down, but Steve did not reach out to help him up. All Bucky saw was Steve’s solemn, heart-wrenching expression.

… _tangling their fingers together for a moment…_

… _all he could do was wait until dusk melted into nightfall, and for nightfall to bleed into daybreak…_

Nightfall – where he had laid, watching and waiting, wishing and hoping, accepting and knowing that things between them were ultimately never meant to be—

“Fight it.”

It was not a command.

Steve never commanded him. It was a call to arms, an order, a rallying cry that Bucky embraced whole heatedly. It gave him strength that fueled the deep seated anger within him—

Bucky gasped—and finally forced his stiff, aching muscles to obey him as he sat up.

Steve gently caught him, as Bucky pitched forward and sagged against him. He was exhausted, but he had broken free of the command of his own will – again. The first time had been when he had thought he had heard Steve’s voice sear through him like a cleansing fire.

… _hang on Bucky. I’m coming…_

Now, was the second time he had fought and won. He clung onto Steve, his own heavy breaths harsh against his ears. Bucky knew that he now had more than just a weapon to fight back against what was done to him.

He had hope.

* * *

_December 29 th, 1948…_

– _01:03 –_

“Feet here and here,” Bucky heard Steve say, as he glanced down to see Steve nudge his feet this way and that, with his own feet.

“And if you set yourself like this—” Steve continued, gently adjusting his shoulders, before Bucky felt him slide his hands down his arms—

“незапятнанный.”

… _t_ _he shield howled in derision at him…_

… _t_ _hose vivid blue-green eyes of his looked up…_

As paralyzed from the command as he was, Bucky realized that he hadn’t hit the floor like a flopping fish. Instead, Steve had caught him – slightly awkwardly, as the stance that Steve had been showing him to hold had made it that way. Yet, his best friend was not lowering him to the floor either.

At nearly the same time, instinct hadn’t quite kicked in yet, as Bucky immediately begin to mentally fight back. Natasha hadn’t even invoked the command while fighting – but the sign was clear.

He _had_ to make his instincts kick in much faster—

“Come on,” he heard Steve murmur in encouragement.

… _t_ _he shield howled in derision at him…_

And that shield that robbed him of his place to protect Steve was lying only a couple of feet away from them. It still howled in derision, still laughed at him, still taunted him with everything that he could not be _for_ Steve anymore—

Bucky angrily strained against the bonds of the stop command, and broke free. His sudden, and violent movement that launched himself from Steve’s arms was not at all graceful. Slamming into the ground, Bucky groaned as another wash of exhaustion seeped into him.

… _t_ _hose vivid blue-green eyes of his looked up…_

He blinked, and found those mesmerizing blue-green eyes of Steve looking down at him. Steve did not say a word, but Bucky could see the relief in those eyes of his. Steve then offered a hand to help him up.

As soon as Bucky was back on his feet, he looked over at Natasha. She was sitting at the table, observing the two of them like a contented cat.

“How many minutes did that take, Natalia?” he asked, trying to steady his breathing so it didn’t feel like he was gulping for air.

“морозилка,” was all Natasha stated.

… _he enjoyed surprising him at times, now that they were both the same height…_

… _your north star…_

Bucky crumpled to the ground.

“Nat! What the hell?” he heard Steve exclaim.

Agony crawled through Bucky like the freezing ice of the stop command. But he was faster this time – and poured every ounce of his cold well of anger into breaking past the wall.

A growl escaped his lips as he forced himself past the shaking exhaustion gripping him, and snatched the shield up from where it laid. It was the closest long-ranged weapon he could get his hands on—and he threw it.

Petty satisfaction filled him as he saw Natasha barely dodge the shield. He met her glare with an equal one of his own, before she unexpectedly smiled in satisfaction.

“Skip the training wheels, Steve,” Natasha stated, sauntering over to where the shield had lodged itself into the brick wall. She yanked it out with some force before returning to where he and Steve were.

“James can handle himself when it comes to fighting with his metal arm,” Natasha said, as Bucky saw her hand the shield back to Steve.

Before Steve could say a word, Bucky saw Natasha turn her attention onto him, saying, “One minute and ten seconds, James. Then you knocked it down to forty-five seconds.”

Bucky nodded, but he knew that there was much more he needed to work on. There was only so much anger could do. And he knew that he could not rely on Steve being there to motivate him to fight the commands.

~~~

– _05:55 –_

“Hey, you all right?”

Bucky glanced up as he felt Steve’s hand on his shoulder. There was warmth, concern, and affection in that tone of Steve’s. He reciprocated the action and squeezed Steve’s shoulder in reassurance, silently nodding his affirmation.

They had decided to call it a night again – even if it was already early morning. It would be another hour of sleep for both of them before they had to get ready for the day.

“Yeah,” he answered.

There was a slightly hesitant look in Steve’s expression, as if he wanted to say something, but was deciding it would be best not to. Bucky could reasonably guess what it was about, and said, “Look, Steve. Thank you, for doing this. It’s helping. Honestly. These memories I have, these nightmares – I still see them, I still hear them, but they’re not keeping me awake anymore.”

He had expected Steve to doubt his words, but nothing was said. Instead, Bucky was suddenly, and unexpectedly enveloped in Steve’s warm embrace.

As strange as it was comforting at the same time, Bucky didn’t know why tears pricked at the corner of his eyes, as he returned the embrace. It used to be him, enveloping Steve in the same way he was being held at the moment – to protect and comfort him, to silently tell him what he dared to never say aloud—

“Good,” Steve murmured, warmly.

* * *

_December 30 th, 1948…_

– _05:07 –_

“You know, you’re pretty vicious, Rogers.”

Bucky glanced over and up to see Tony suddenly appear next to Natasha, who was observing and refereeing the current sparring match.

At the moment, Steve had him pinned on the ground, flat of the blade pressed up against his neck. But, Bucky had the flat of his blade pressed against the inside of Steve’s right leg. It was a mutual point in their match.

The inventor was giving both of them a mild look, but seemed less… angry than Bucky had ever seen him be. Yet, he knew and understood why Tony now regarded him with such disdain – his other self in Steve’s timeline had killed Howard and Howard’s wife.

“Oh, hey Tony, glad you could join us,” Natasha blithely and sarcastically stated.

Steve withdrew and sheathed his blade, before extending a hand to help him up. Bucky had done the same with his own blade, and accepted the help up.

“No sparring mat, no cushion to land on… but it does look like you’re pulling your punches, Rogers,” Tony continued to say. “Still won’t let your Manchurian Candidate of a friend off the reservation, huh?”

As much as Bucky wanted clarification to what a ‘Manchurian Candidate’ was, it was Steve suddenly pivoting and tossing his knife onto the table where his shield was, that stopped him. Without another word to him, or to Tony and Natasha, Steve left.

Just as Bucky was about to chase after Steve, Tony surprised him by immediately following Steve. He watched the two travel up the stairs and through the doors—

“Training’s over for tonight, James,” Natasha stated, drawing his attention away. “At least Steve’s done training you for now. In fact, I think he’s taught you pretty much everything he knows. You’re an extremely fast learner.”

Bucky took one last look at the doors that had shut behind Steve and Tony, before focusing his attention on Natasha, asking, “What the hell was that about?”

“Leave it alone,” Natasha answered, shaking her head slightly. “You know why Tony hates you, so it’s just his way of getting back at you.”

“What?” Bucky questioned, angry. “Bullying Steve to get at me?! The hell—”

“безразличие.”

… _how long are you going to keep doing this…_

Bucky stumbled, but kept himself upright as he took two ragged breaths, and glared at Natasha. “The fuck are you—”

“Training… многочисленный.”

… _what he had written on that piece of paper…_

He gritted his teeth as the paralysis tried to send him to the ground. Lunging menacingly towards Natasha merely made her step back – daintily. As irritating as it was, Bucky kept fighting, kept moving, and kept pushing—

* * *

– _23:51 –_

“Tony’s right, Steve.”

Steve looked up. Natasha was perched on the edge of his bed, with a knee drawn up to her chin. It was well past the time that he and Bucky usually began sparring and training, but he had been sitting in his room since Howard, David, and Michael had left for the day. Peggy had left earlier, having been summoned to Headquarters.

Not only had it been four days and nights since Bucky had asked him to train and teach him, it had also been the same amount of time since Peggy had briefed Philips on the possibility of a mole within SSR-Europe’s ranks. Yet, even after that briefing, Steve had not revealed to Philips that he had told Bucky about the price he, Steve, had to pay for this.

Part of the reason why was that there were too many things going on. Even with Philips vetted by both Peggy and Bucky, Steve didn’t know how much the mole knew. With Operation Midnight potentially compromised in a severe manner, Steve hated the fact that he had to do what Fury loved to do – compartmentalize.

Bucky knew about his, Philips, and Lorraine’s DC operations to get the blackmail files destroyed. Philips did not know that Bucky knew.

Michael, Howard, David, Lorraine, Philips, Peggy, Bucky, and he knew about Dottie Underwood and the mole. They also kept the cover story of the Brooklyn facility intact.

Sousa, DumDum, Li, and the others of the 107th remained in the dark about the true nature of what was being created and built at the facility. Their cover story was the serum re-creation.

Compartmentalization.

It was all to keep secrets safe. To keep knowledge away from the mole – whomever he or she was. Steve disliked the fact that he now understood why Fury did what he did back then.

And he hadn’t realized that he had been doing that to Bucky as well during their training. He had compartmentalize the fact that they both needed to engage in an actual fight to bring out the full potential that he knew Bucky possessed as the Winter Soldier.

Not as the Soviet’s greatest asset and weapon, but as _the_ Winter Soldier.

“Whatever he’s using for motivation to fight past the commands, it’s strong Steve,” Natasha continued to say.

“I know,” Steve softly said, as he glanced down at his left wrist.

The black inset remained inactive, but as he stood up, Steve tapped out a specific pattern. Dark blue, cloth-like material slowly bled out and enveloped him.

“I just hope it’s strong enough for what we’re about to do, Nat,” he quietly stated.

~~~

_December 31_ _st_ _, 1948…_

– _00:01 –_

Bucky leaned against the table that held Steve’s shield, the few knives that they had been using for sparring, and a couple of knickknacks that Howard had placed on it. The shield and knives were always put away after the training and sparring sessions, but brought out after everyone had left for the day.

Because of the heightened alertness within the facility, both he and Steve had agreed to keep the knowledge of the Winter Soldier – at least the identity – secret for now. No one knew how much information the mole knew about the operation here, or of any other SSR cases.

If the mole was working alone, then that limited the damage – though not by much. If there was someone augmenting the mole – which Bucky still couldn’t discern if Dottie Underwood’s words were an attempt to rile him up, or were cleverly disguised as absolute truth – then they needed to also pursue and stop the second mole.

Dottie Underwood had called him the Winter Soldier. Peggy had heard that nickname, but at the moment, she, along with everyone else were concentrating on hunting down the known mole – the operative code-named Wolf Spider.

Steve wanted to make doubly sure that there wasn’t _another_ Winter Soldier – as per his memories – before telling the others about who the Winter Soldier had been in the other timeline. It had warmed Bucky that Steve had asked for his permission to eventually reveal the identity of the Winter Soldier – even though they both knew that he wasn’t the Winter Soldier of the other timeline.

Bucky had agreed to it. The Winter Soldier name and reputation was his for the taking, and his to shape now—

His thoughts screeched to a halt as the doors that led to the facility’s floor opened. Steve stepped through, but far be it that he was wearing the usual comfortable, loose clothing he sparred in. Steve was wearing his SHIELD uniform, and had a single pistol on him.

His best friend’s demeanor was also different, as Bucky stood up, warily watching Steve make his way down. Natasha suddenly appearing and standing akimbo near the serum workstation, and Tony’s appearance near the time-travel device caused his instincts to flare up in danger.

As soon as Steve’s feet cleared the stairs and landed on the floor, Steve attacked.

Bucky immediately dove for the first object he could get his hands on – Steve’s shield. He barely had enough time to pivot from the table with the shield in his hands before Steve’s fast combination of punches landed.

Blocking and dodging to his right, Bucky didn’t try to hold onto the shield as Steve ripped it out of his hands. The pistol on Steve immediately flew up and out of it’s holster – Bucky lunged in and smashed it out of Steve’s hand with his left elbow

But he had unbalanced himself at the same time. Two sharp blows landed on his right shoulder and back as he spun out of Steve’s reach. Only to bring up his hands in an ‘X’ to ward off the combat knife that came smashing down towards his head—

“желание.”

… _all he could do now was survive, because he longed to live…_

—and curled his right hand into a fist. Bucky punched once-twice, into Steve’s stomach, folding him ever so briefly. He snatched the blade out of Steve’s hand with his left, before reaching in further to grab a fist full Steve’s vibranium-laced uniform—

“ржaвый.”

… _there was a searching look in_ _his eyes…_

—and threw Steve over his shoulder, and clear across the floor. He didn’t even wait for Steve to get up, as he rushed towards him, combat blade held low in his hand. Bucky struck from down low, forcing Steve to grab the shield and block. The blade screeched as it scraped up—

“семнадцать.”

… _t_ _here was a solemn look in h_ _is_ _eyes…_

—and over the shield. But that was only a distraction he employed, as Bucky then spun, snap kicking and lashing out. His booted feet connected with both Steve’s unshielded arm and shield that had been brought up the last minute. Steve stumbled to his left, but—

“рассвет.”

… _daybreak had arrived…_

—Bucky was not done. He continued to push the relentless assault, instincts screaming at him to not falter, even if it was Steve attacking him. He punched once-twice-three times, and brought his left arm to block Steve’s retaliatory shield strike. Bucky turned into—

“печь.”

_...carry a frozen body, child or adult…_

—the strike, putting himself perilously close to where Steve could put him in a choke hold. But as soon as he felt Steve fall into the instinctual hold, Bucky whirled around, the blade in his right hand held close. It sliced between metal and Steve’s uniform, into the leather—

“девять.”

… _his eyes were doing that searching look again…_

—and snapped the shield off Steve’s arm. It thudded to the ground. Steve immediately struck at his hand, but Bucky opened his palm and immediately flipped the knife to his left hand, as he brought up in a backhand strike—

“добросердечный.”

… _how many more times they had before either of their luck ran out…_

—only to be met with Steve stiffly blocking the strike. Bucky only had a moment to react, as Steve suddenly lunged in, feinting a strike, before he was swept off his feet. Landing hard on the floor, Bucky rolled out of the way—

“возвращение на родину.”

… _they were his reason to come home, no matter what happened…_

—springing up, just before Steve could step in and kick him. He brought his hands up again to block the axe-kick that Steve bore down upon him. Heaving with all of his strength, he shoved up and forward, unbalancing Steve—

“один.”

… _he should have made his peace long ago…_

—flipping him up and over. Steve landed lightly on his feet a few feet away. Bucky snatched up the shield from the floor and threw it with all of his might. It sailed through the air, scraping by Steve with only a few inches to spare as Bucky saw him lean backwards—

“безразличие.”

… _how long are you going to keep doing this…_

—and lodge into the brick wall. But that hadn’t been the only thing Bucky had thrown. To his surprise and annoyance, Steve had caught the knife that had been transferred back to his right hand before he had thrown the shield. But instead of directly attacking, Steve continued to use his momentum from leaning back to dodge the shield, and kicked the shield out of the brick wall—

“незапятнанный.”

… _t_ _he shield howled in derision at him…_

—only to have it land neatly in his hands. Bucky was already lunging towards the dropped pistol on the floor, and snatched it up. A brief moment of panic surged through him as he felt the weight of the gun – it was loaded. But _he_ was the Winter Soldier—

“сумеречный.”

… _tangling their fingers together for a moment…_

—and turned and fired. He only got three shots off, all of them pinging against the shield, as Steve charged. Blocking with his left arm, Bucky let the pistol go and snatched it up with his right hand. He brought the butt end of it up and clubbed it against Steve’s unprotected head—

“морозилка.”

… _he enjoyed surprising him at times, now that they were both the same height…_

—only to have it blocked and scrape against the knife in Steve’s left hand. Locked against Steve, Bucky pushed, trying to use his weight – the only advantage he had now – against Steve. They were the same height—

“один единственный.”

… _t_ _hey were facing each other with their noses_ _nearly_ _touching…_

—and Bucky saw the opportunity a split second later. He immediately dropped low, taking the blow of Steve’s shield against his body for a moment. As he rolled onto his back, he snap-kicked up, flinging the shield up and away from Steve’s grasp. The shield landed somewhere on the second floor landing—

“злобный.”

… _y_ _ou wanna join the outfit, don't spread malignant rumors…_

—and he knew that that was all the opportunity he was going to get. Turning and racing towards the table, Bucky snatched another combat knife off the table. He instincts screamed at him, as he spun and brought the blade up. Metal crashed against metal—

“отъезд.”

… _a sudden fear of not being able to come home from the war…_

—as he met Steve’s blade with his own. Bucky lashed out with his left hand, whir and whine loud in his ears as Steve met him blow for blow. He pushed Steve back, determined to force him towards a wall where Steve could not dance around him—

“многочисленный.”

… _what he had written on that piece of paper…_

—only to suddenly stop himself from bringing his blade down onto Steve’s right shoulder, when Steve’s uniform unexpectedly bled away.

Bucky took a step back, silently watching Steve. At nearly the same time, Steve had tossed his blade away, and stood before him – unarmed and seemingly unwilling to continue to fight.

The blade in Bucky’s hand clattered to the floor – he was not going to fight Steve in this manner.

Then, Steve closed the distance to him again – much closer than before. But Bucky’s instincts were not screaming in danger. The rush of their fight was slowly ebbing away as he stared at Steve.

Both of them were breathing quite hard, but their breaths were not labored. Rivulets of sweat dripped down their faces as blue-green eyes met grey-blue, and blinked.

For a second, Bucky was thoroughly tempted to throw caution into the wind and close the few inches between their faces to kiss Steve. Steve’s hot breath brushing across him was not helping the temptation, and neither was the fact that Bucky’s eyes had briefly traced the outline of Steve’s lips.

But that was all a second, a moment’s temptation that he determinedly held in check—

“You did it, Bucky,” Steve’s breathless praise, and sun-bright smile wrapped around him tighter than what his own temptation could withstand.

That temptation was shattered back into reality as Bucky realized what exactly had happened. The commands – both conditioning and stop had been fired in rapid succession by Natasha, but he had _**continued**_ to fight against Steve.

Bucky had seen the brief flashes of memories, had heard the words being said, but he had not stopped, had not slowed down. He had continued to fight, attack, and defend against Steve.

Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Steve reach up and cup his right hand around his neck and cheek. Bucky almost gave into his desire to turn into Steve’s hand and press his lips against Steve’s palm, but stopped himself.

He further surprised when Steve leaned slightly forward, and pressed their foreheads together. “You did it,” Steve repeated.

“Because you were with me, until the end of the line, Steve,” Bucky softly answered.

~*~*~*~


	17. Pretender – Part 3

**Chapter 12: Pretender – Part 3**

_December 31_ _st_ _, 1948…_

– _01:0_ _4_ _–_

“End of the line. We were six… no, seven when we made that promise, weren’t we?”

Bucky glanced over at Steve. Steve was leaning against the parapet, staring out at the dark, cloudy horizon. There was an eagerness on his face that didn’t seem affected by the cold breeze blowing by – as if Steve hadn’t seen the city for a long while.

He didn’t know how long it had been since Steve actually went outside – or even onto the rooftops. While it was not too dangerous for Steve to be on the rooftops during the middle of the night, it was unsaid that the less he remained outside the facility, the better.

Bucky thought it was a harsh way to live – even if it was temporary.

But Steve did not seem to mind it, even if he did look slightly like an eager puppy at the moment. It was also going to snow soon – Bucky could feel that in the slight ache in his bones that pulsed where his metal arm had been grafted to him. He would remain up here for as long as Steve remained – if only to see if Steve would react like he used to before the war – whenever it snowed.

“Seven,” he confirmed. “I emigrated when I was six.”

“And if I remember, two days after you moved here, you started school. We ran into each other in the schoolyard,” Steve answered, grinning as Bucky saw him glance over.

It had only been about a half hour since the end of their match – the end of everything that Steve could teach him about hand-to-hand combat. Bucky still felt overwhelmed, but was relieved, happy, and surprised that he had been able to continue to fight past the damned commands.

Steve had stepped away from him after briefly bringing their foreheads together. Yet, he hadn’t done it in an abrupt fashion either. Bucky could still feel the lingering trace of Steve’s fingers brushing along his neck, and sliding down jaw.

It had left Bucky slightly regretful that he hadn’t thrown caution into the wind and do what he had wanted to do for most of his life – kiss Steve. But he was also glad he hadn’t. Steve was married, and firmly in love with Peggy.

Bucky also knew how much vows and promises meant to Steve. His best friend would never break them, and Bucky would never force him to.

Hell, they were discussing promises now – reminiscing about the first and the oldest of their promises: to be there with each other, until the end of the line.

Bucky had been the one to say that promise to Steve – after he had defended Steve for the fourth time in the schoolyard against the bullies. Steve, being the stubborn ass he always was, had tried to shake it off. Bucky had not relented, and after the sixth fight, got Steve to finally agree to it.

“Forward and together, until the end of the line,” he heard Steve murmur, as he saw him return his gaze out to the city and horizon. “That was the newest promise we made after we got out of the silo.”

“And you kept it, Steve,” he answered, hearing the melancholy in Steve’s tone. “It’s thanks to both you and Natalia, that I’m not a prisoner of my own mind.”

Bucky reached out with his good hand and patted Steve’s folded hands. “You made it in time, Steve,” he stated. “Thank you.”

He saw the edges of Steve’s lips quirk up in a smile, though it seemed to be still slightly melancholic. Before Bucky could continue to ask what was bothering Steve now, when they both had every right to be happy about the outcome of the training, Steve suddenly unfolded his hands.

Bucky’s hand was left sandwiched between Steve’s hands. Even gloved, he could still feel the warmth emanating from Steve’s hands. Curious, yet unsure if he was reading the action correctly, he glanced up from their hands to see Steve looking at him with some regret.

“I’m sorry that I can’t wholly give you want you want, Buck,” Steve began. Bucky felt the tiny amount of pressure Steve briefly placed on his hand, indicating what he meant. “I wasn’t able to in the other timeline, and I’m not able to do so here—”

“Steve—” he began.

“It took me too long to realize that I should’ve dug up the courage to say it when I was twenty,” Steve said, shaking his head slightly. “I’m sorry.”

Despite recognizing that Steve was making in oblique confession, Bucky still sympathized. After all they had been through, everything between them was still the same, yet completely changed. “It’s all right. I’ve made my peace,” he answered, trying to reassure him.

It was also in that moment that he realized what kind of promise his other self had made with Steve – the newest of their oldest of promises: forward and together, until the end of the line. With that startling realization also came with a strangely sound conclusion as to why Steve had been giving him so many mixed messages since… well before, during, and after the war.

Especially after the war – since Steve’s revelation that he had traveled back in time.

“I see it, and I wish…” Steve solemnly began, but paused as he sighed. “I just want you to be happy, Bucky. I wish there was something I could do—”

Bucky didn’t know why he was breathing a mental sigh of relief with the fact that it was clear Steve was not going to betray his vows to Peggy. Yet, Bucky also felt sad. Life and missed opportunities for both of them to find happiness with just each other – illegality be damned – had passed both of them by.

“If Peggy is okay with this, then this is okay,” he said, wiggling his gloved hand that was still sandwiched between Steve’s own, slightly.

He didn’t know what in his statement made Steve laugh a little before his hand was let go. But as quickly as that had been, Bucky was then swept up in a warm embrace. Warmth and comfort filled him, driving away some of his sadness.

“Peggy gave me the whole ‘if you hurt him, you’ll have me to answer to’ spiel, this morning,” Steve said after a moment as he let go and held him less than an arm’s length away. “She doesn’t know about the Winter Soldier, and she won’t until you give me permission to tell her. But, I was telling her a little about our training sessions. I thought she meant for me to not injure you earlier—”

“Which I don’t think you can now, punk,” Bucky pointed out.

Steve laughed at that, before his eyes took on a more serious quality, as he continued to say, “but she told me that she’s always been comfortable with what we have – what we feel for each other.”

“Ménage à trois?” Bucky couldn’t help but state slightly in jest.

It seemed that Steve had never considered it, and flushed bright red at the thought. Bucky couldn’t help but grin – he had finally found something of the old, stammering Steve.

“We’re good as we are now, Steve. I’m just damn glad that you’re alive and well,” Bucky said.

The words almost stuck to the roof of his mouth, but Bucky forced himself to say it. He had already cheated on Michael, and he was not going to make Steve into one.

It didn’t matter if Peggy was comfortable with the subtle, small displays of affection Steve had been sharing with him. Bucky knew he could deal with his own wants and desires. He had done so since he was ten – even if Steve’s oblique confession made him regret that he had not said anything earlier.

That was the past – this was the now, in the river of time.

He reached out and placed both hands on Steve’s shoulders, shaking him slightly. “And besides, there’s only so much of you _and_ Peggy I can stand for a limited time. You snore, and she’s always getting on my back for one thing or another. I’d be the miserable one in a ménage à trois.”

It was enough to get Steve to lighten up, as he saw him frown slightly, saying, “I don’t snore.”

Bucky let go as he held up a finger, and pretended to look up into the cloudy sky in thought, before looking back down. “Tell you what, punk. I’ll see if I can get David to create a bug and stick it on you. Record you snoring, and play it back to prove my point.”

To his surprise, Steve gave him an exasperated look. Bucky couldn’t help but wonder if someone he had worked with, or was close to in the other timeline, had suggested something similar.

“Are you happy, Bucky?” Steve solemnly asked again, after a few seconds of silence.

Bucky didn’t know why the words just suddenly tumbled out of his mouth – stated in a slightly derisive tone as well, “What, going to ask permission to kiss me?”

“If that’ll make you happy, yes.”

Bucky blinked.

Those words were completely unexpected. There was nothing in Steve’s eyes to suggest that he was joking either. Bucky immediately looked away, unable to face the depth of Steve’s actual willingness to do such a thing.

_Yes, i_ _t will_ _._

“Please, don’t,” he somehow managed to say, as he felt his left hand curl up into a fist.

It took him a couple of seconds to calm himself down and open his hand again. The temptation to throw caution into the wind was so close to him, but he was determined not to succumb to it. Peggy trusted him – trusted Steve – and Bucky was not about to betray that trust.

Or cross the line in his and Steve’s already tangled, complex relationship.

Bucky forced himself to look at Steve. There was a moment where he saw defiance flash through Steve’s eyes – as if Steve was not going to obey his request. Despite himself and the convictions he tried to hold within him, that look sent an odd thrill down Bucky’s spine.

But that moment passed, and he saw Steve nod – albeit it was very reluctant. The action was almost similar to how Steve behaved whenever he had been rejected by the girls that were on a double-date with the two of them. But Bucky was determined not to give in and envelope his best friend in a comforting embrace – not this one time.

“I’m going to turn in for the night, then. Don’t stay up too late, Bucky,” Steve quietly said, before turning and left.

Bucky waited until he couldn’t hear Steve’s footsteps on the stairs before sagging slightly against the low parapet. An ache tore at his heart, and he knew that it was irreparable.

This was not like the heartache that had clawed at him when he and Michael had broken up – this was something that had governed his life, his actions. He hadn’t wanted to do that to Steve, but he couldn’t let his best friend break vows and promises made to Peggy.

Steve’s lips and the deep affection behind those kisses – and more – belonged to Peggy, and only Peggy.

The soft scrape of footsteps on the rooftop caused him to turn his head slightly towards the sound. Natasha approached, but there was a solemn look on her face. Bucky could only surmise that she had felt a spike of despairing emotion from Steve via the stones.

“I’d like to be left alone, Natalia,” he stated.

“Then go,” she bluntly and unexpectedly stated, stopping next to him. “Why remain up here, freezing your ass off in the bitter cold, when you can be wallowing in whatever guilt, loneliness, or self-loathing disgust in the so-called comfort of your own room? You’re not the type for self-flagellation from the cold.”

Hot anger – not the irritating and cold well that Natasha seemingly drew out these past few days during training – filled him. But he remembered that he could not intimidate Natasha the way he wanted to – she was dead, and touching her would have severe consequences for him.

As quickly as that white-hot anger came, it dissipated. Her words were goading, and she had left it open enough to allow him to take it at least two ways: mock and goad her, or _listen_ to her words.

Either way, it was clear to him that she had experienced something similar.

“Who was… or is he?” he asked instead.

“His name is Clint Barton,” she quietly stated. “He was a SHIELD agent. I had made a name for myself after the collapse of the Soviet Union. Freelance, mercenary. Didn’t matter who I killed, so long as… well, it didn’t matter. I got on SHIELD’s radar in a bad way, so they sent their best agent into assassinate me. He made a different call.”

“Brought you in from the cold,” he murmured.

“Clint saved my life,” she said, nodding once. “I found out afterwards that he was newly married too, and had postponed his honeymoon for that mission.”

Bucky remained silent, seeing that she had more to say.

“I had nothing to lose, he had everything to lose,” she continued after a moment. “Coping with what we both did for SHIELD was difficult, and there had been some comfort both Clint and I found together.”

“But there’s only so much satisfaction an affair can provide,” Natasha said. “Laura was her name, and Clint tried to keep her far away from what he did for SHIELD. I forced Clint to confess his infidelity to Laura after learning she was pregnant with their first child. Clint knew that I couldn’t ever have children – and I wanted them to remain a family.Then, I spent the next few years working on my own missions for SHIELD.”

She crossed her arms across her chest before saying, “When Coulson, our handler, told me that Clint had been turned into one of Loki’s flying monkeys – possessed and controlled via the Mind Stone – I was determined to stop and save him. The years we spent apart made us both realize how naive we both were. Laura never fully forgave me, but we made our peace. After what Clint and I faced in New York, she told me to keep protecting her husband in any way I could. And that if Clint or I had any moments of weakness, it was only because he was human – and so was I.”

Natasha paused for a moment, but Bucky could sense that she was not done. After a few seconds of silence, she continued, saying, “Clint lost his wife and children when Thanos snapped his fingers. In those intervening five years, he became someone I almost did not recognize. His own ledger was fuller than mine.”

“Clint was willing to sacrifice himself for the Soul Stone, wasn’t he?” Bucky quietly asked.

“It requires sacrificing someone you love to obtain it,” she answered.

He also understood why she was telling him this. She was only seeking to protect Steve. Much like Peggy telling him that he had to answer to her if he ever broke Michael’s heart – which he had, and he got his lecture from Peggy – Natasha was doing the same on behalf of Steve.

“Then why the innuendos, Natalia?” he questioned. There had been a multitude of sexually charged insinuations that Natasha had thrown at the two of them, whenever they ended up close together after sparring.

“Because Steve wears his feelings on his sleeve,” Natasha answered. “It’s bitten him too many times since I’ve been working with him – especially if it involves you.”

“Training,” Bucky stated, blinking in slight surprise. “You were training him to brush it off.”

“He’s gotten a lot better, but you still read it in his eyes, didn’t you?” she asked.

“I take it that in the future, the cat was out of the bag on his—”

“Preferences?” Natasha questioned. “No,” she continued, shaking her head slightly. “When it came to his private life, he kept a lid on that. None of us knew that he visited Peggy in hospice as much as possible, during the last few years of her life, until she died. With you, he…”

“It was… difficult?” he ventured.

She paused for a moment before tilting her head slightly as she looked at him. “I don’t think Steve’s like Howard or Tony when it comes to things like that,” Natasha said. “You know him better than anyone else, Carter included. Are enormous displays of affection… him?”

Bucky frowned slightly. “No,” he answered after thinking about it. “But then why train him to completely hide it, when it looks like he’s been doing a fair job of it?”

“Divide and conquer,” Natasha stated, the quality of her tone taking on a hardness. “That is what Widows try to do,” she continued to say. “Seduction by a Black Widow does not have to be sexual. If this Wolf Spider is the male equivalent of a Widow, and has been in your ranks since the war – there is a good chance that he knows or has observed various types of relationships between personnel.”

“But only Peggy, Howard, David, Michael, Philips, Lorraine, and I know that Steve is alive,” he pointed out.

“You listen and see, but you don’t hear or observe,” she interrupted. “The war ended, but this is the age of shadows, of spies like you and I.”

“Are you saying that I _can’t_ – shouldn’t – trust any of them? Peggy included?” he asked, incredulous.

“You and Carter claimed to have cleared all of the SSR and 107th here. Now you’re focused on Europe,” she answered. “Dottie Underwood never specified the organization. Do you remember what she said?”

“The agent was embedded during the war and is still among you,” Bucky quoted, narrowing his eyes ever so slightly. “It can’t be Howard or David?”

“Have you cleared them? Or Michael Carter?”

As horrified and skeptical as he was of Natasha’s question, he knew that she had a point. He didn’t know why she didn’t just vet the others, if she had her suspicions. It didn’t seem like she was beholden to a non-interference clause of any sort.

“Michael was SOE during the war,” he stated. “He occasionally liaised with the SSR whenever mission parameters crossed paths. He wasn’t ‘embedded’. David and Howard, they’ve been with the SSR since before I joined up. If they wanted to sabotage anything, they were in the perfect place to do so. They could’ve killed all of us many times over.”

Nevertheless, as those words left Bucky’s lips, he hated the doubts that had lodged into his thoughts. During the war, David had been blackmailed into building something that would kill Steve in the field. The engineer thankfully had been defiant in that endeavor – and the blackmailer killed by both Peggy and him, Bucky.

Bucky himself had been assigned by Philips to vet and clear Michael of being a double-agent for HYDRA and the Soviets, during the war. Michael had been a prisoner of HYDRA for two years – and ultimately, the truth had come out: Michael had been a double-agent, but for his homeland. That was how the wrap up of Operation Midnight came about.

After the war, Howard had been subjected to accusations that he was selling weapons to the Soviet Union. Peggy had been forced to become a double-agent to find out what was going on. She and Sousa eventually cleared Howard’s name, captured Dr. Ivchenko, and stopped the Soviet’s mass hysteria plans.

“Why haven’t _you_ cleared them?” he asked.

“Because I assumed that you or Carter would want to bring them in with little to no harm,” she answered, lifting a hand up from her crossed arms and waved it. It served as a reminder that because of what she now was, any touch from her killed living things instantly.

“So I can trust Peggy?” he asked.

“The next time Steve talks to her in private, you need to be there,” Natasha advised. “If not to make sure that if the Wolf Spider is either of the three, he does not use any potential rift between the three of you to an advantage.”

“Paranoia at its finest,” Bucky couldn’t help but mutter.

It was an indirect way of confirming that Peggy and Steve could be trusted with this information. Bucky hated the fact that he had to suspect Howard, David, and Michael, but Natasha was right. Neither he nor Peggy had stated those command words to the three.

They had just _assumed_.

“It happened in another reality that Steve and I traveled to,” Natasha quietly answered. “Except that it was subtle enough that your counterpart didn’t see the betrayal until it was too late.”

“Telling my story, Natalia?”

The unexpected voice, more youthful, but just as full of experience and age as his own, startled both of them. Both Bucky and Natasha turned towards the voice, only to see Ghost Rider standing a little ways away from them. The fire-circle behind the entity was rapidly disappearing.

As unsettled as Bucky was, seeing his other self that was host to the entity approach, Natasha seemed not too bothered by it and answered, “If you’ll let me, Barnes? I’d rather not pay a price for having you tell your story.”

“Consider it a freebie,” the entity strangely stated, before turning his attention onto Bucky. “Ghost Rider was surprised that this reality shifted. Very few of us ever break free of the Winter Soldier, and even fewer survive without it.”

Bucky saw the entity stand at parade rest, clearly displaying a military bearing and training about him. “Consider my story as gift of warning and caution, in the hopes that you’ll survive what is to come in the next few decades of your Cold War.”

“You were the same as my other self in Steve’s timeline, weren’t you?” Bucky asked.

“James, please don’t ask questions—” Natasha began, worried.

The entity held up a hand, before saying, “Questions are included, but only up until I leave. And to answer yours, yes. I served the Soviet Union as the Winter Soldier in my reality. Embedded commands, conditioning, everything was similar. I’m not a super-soldier though.”

As much as Bucky wanted to ask how this counterpart of his broke free, he didn’t. He got the sense that there was a limited amount of time he had for the entity to tell him things. “Why?” he asked. “Why now?”

“Because Ghost Rider wants Steve Rogers to complete what he started – return the stones,” the entity stated. “And the shift that this reality has taken has put it on a precipice. On the tip of a blade. The price for Ghost Rider’s intervention to make sure the shift does not fall one way or the other, is too great for one man, much less a world to bear.”

“Sounds overly dramatic,” Bucky couldn’t help but mutter.

“Any single time someone wields the Infinity Stones, all realities tend to skew towards crises,” the entity said. “Steve Rogers returning the stones brings some balance to the chaos.”

“So, then, what’s your story of betrayal?” Bucky asked, though he couldn’t keep the slightly derisive tone out. It was strange and utterly disconcerting to hear himself speak bombastically – even if his younger self was not entirely… himself.

“Steve Rogers of my reality was a mentor and something of a big brother to me. Because of this, I was blinded to many of the clues that in hindsight, should have been clear. He became possessed by the Red Skull. I myself, and countless of others who were considered close friends of his, did not see it until it was too late. Superheroes and their allies were completely decimated and indiscriminately killed until there was just a handful of us left,” the entity stated.

Bucky had to credit the straight face of Natasha, and the fact that she had a serious look on her face, for not dismissing the story. “But…” he began.

“Mercy kill was the best we could do for Steve,” the entity stated. “Myself, your counterpart in Steve’s timeline, and another counterpart of ours from another reality. Together, the three of us killed the Red Skull and his host. But reality crossings are not my stories to tell. Betrayal, subtle ones by those you least expect, will happen in this reality, Sergeant Barnes. It’s a part of the shift that has taken place.”

“It’s Agent now,” Bucky corrected.

“All the more to remember what you’ve experienced during the war, Agent Barnes,” the entity stated. “Your Cold War will be much darker, more sinister and insidious than anything I have ever seen in other realities.”

“Then you know who the Wolf Spider is,” Bucky realized. “Who?”

“That requires an equivalent exchange transaction—”

Before the entity could finish his words, Natasha had surprisingly stepped in front of Bucky. “Leave now, Ghost Rider,” she growled, splaying out her arms and legs – as if she was protecting him from the entity. “You will not cause, or receive a transaction here from him.”

“Natalia,” Bucky began, but fell silent as he saw half of his younger self become enveloped in the skull-on-fire thing. He stepped slightly out to the side, but did not step forward from where Natasha was.

“If you’ll allow me one last free question, Ghost Rider,” he began.

The entity nodded once.

“What is the equivalent exchange transaction for the knowledge of who the Wolf Spider is?” Bucky asked.

“Your life,” the entity stated. “And your return to becoming the Soviet Union’s greatest, deadliest asset – undoing everything that Captain Steven Grant Rogers has done in this timeline.”

~~~

_S_ _SR Headquarters…_

– _08:_ _0_ _0_ _–_

The snow lightly teased across her face as Peggy closed the passenger door to her car. The streets were somewhat empty, and sidewalks sparsely populated with civilians. With the weather, and anticipated upcoming New Year tomorrow, everyone was staying indoors – or visiting family and friends elsewhere.

It was also the perfect time for the SSR to hold their annual budget, cases, and projects review. The days after Christmas were usually quiet ones, even for the SSR. These past four days had had her dividing her time between Brooklyn and Headquarters, barely leaving her any time to privately spend with Steve.

Still, she was glad that Thompson had declared today, the 31 st , the last day – and a half day of work, to boot. But she still had to sit through four hours—

“Need some help carrying those files, Peggy?”

Peggy glanced over to see Daniel approaching. “Daniel,” she greeted. “Thank you, but I thought you and the rest of the 107 th  have a day off?”

Her friend smiled, and extended a hand out to take the rather heavy briefcase that she had lugged out of her car. It looked like he was not going to leave. Grateful, she gave him the heavier briefcase, before adjusting the lighter one in her other hand.

“Yeah, but I’d figure I’d pay my desk a visit and clear off the cobwebs. If not to make sure that Thompson didn’t lease it to some newbie agent,” her friend joked.

She couldn’t help but laugh at that. Their duties at the Brooklyn facility took up enough of their time that it was unfeasible for any of them to go back to Headquarters, unless necessary.

“Besides,” Daniel said as the two of them made their way into the ground floor telephone operating center of Headquarters. “Since Barnes is still considered a temporary transfer, I figured that if you needed to take a day off or such, I could help out with at least the day-to-day running of the place. And I want to know what Thompson has planned for all of us after Stark completes the serum.”

“ **If** Howard is successful,” Peggy couldn’t help but say. “But thank you, Daniel, for your generosity and support.”

~~~

_B_ _rooklyn Facility…_

– _08:_ _22_ _–_

There was nothing out of the ordinary within the perimeter, even on the rooftop. Yet, the unsettled feeling that Bucky felt since waking up this morning wouldn’t go away.

He knew that a small part of it was from Ghost Rider’s words of warning last night. Yet, Natasha had helped him do a perimeter check this morning – having also felt something ‘off’ about the place. She was currently on the rooftop, checking it again.

The puttering noise of car approaching, parking, and shutting its engine off,caused him to look up from the morning reports that Lorraine had collected from Headquarters. Both he and Lorraine were currently skimming through them to make sure anything of interest was noted.

The rest of the team, including the 107th had New Years Eve off, but it was still work for those who knew about the time-travel device. The studio itself wouldn’t be open, but Bucky wanted to keep the external security system activated.

“Morning,” David greeted, as Lorraine buzzed the two into the front of the studio lobby.

A faint grin quirked up the edges of Bucky lips as he saw his friend yawn widely. Behind David was Michael, and he saw him raise a cup of coffee that he was holding for the engineer.

David himself was carrying two briefcases with him. Both were most likely full of whatever was needed for today’s continued repairs and improvements on the time-travel device.

“Morning,” he answered.

“Good morning,” Lorraine echoed at the same time.

To his and Lorraine’s surprise, David placed one of the briefcases onto the side of the table they were working at. “Weaponry improvements. Happy Christmas and New Year,” was all the engineer said, grinning as he turned to take the cup of coffee from Michael, murmuring his thanks.

The mild look that Michael was giving David was one that both Bucky and Lorraine were all too familiar with. It need not be said that David had once again, stayed up all night, working on a project that fascinated him, and forgot to sleep.

There had been times during the war, and wandering into the engineering laboratories at MI-5, that Bucky found his friend sleeping at his desk with several gadgets strewn about. Forcing the engineer to go home after hours did little to deter David from working on different things while at home.

Then, there was Lorraine’s fascination at every little gadget that came from the engineering laboratories. Bucky could see her eyeing the briefcase with curiosity, wanting to dive in and possibly ‘test’ all the new improvements.

“Hey, can I speak with you in private, Bucky?” Michael asked, just as Lorraine pressed the other buzzer under the desk they were currently standing near, to let David into the facility.

Bucky glanced over at Lorraine, who shrugged, and returned his attention to Michael. The reports they had skimmed through had not shown anything of interest. Thus, he would leave Lorraine to the gadgets.

Michael’s request also gave him an excuse to not remain longer than he liked with Lorraine. They tolerated each other, but only for so long. Even Bucky had his own limits when it was with a woman who irritated him greatly.

He followed his ex-lover outside, adjusting his fedora on his head as the lightly falling snow blew by. There were already a couple of inches sticking on the sidewalks. The roads had thin patches of coating in places, and cars were already being covered.

They stopped at the entrance to the alleyway. It had been a week since Bucky had attempted to reconcile with Michael about what he had done. He wasn’t getting his hopes up for any further reconciliation – at least that was his assumption for Michael pulling him aside to privately talk for a few minutes.

“Tell me David is at least getting a few hours of sleep, and not constantly working on whatever he has in that briefcase,” Bucky began.

“I think he is,” Michael answered. “I just… I just wanted to ask how you were doing, Bucky.”

“Fine,” he answered, though he hadn’t meant to make his tone short. “Better,” he amended in a kinder tone.

“You don’t look as tired as you used to,” Michael commented.

Bucky remained silent at that. Natasha’s questions about Howard, David, and Michael rang in his thoughts at the moment. He hated suspecting the three, but now was a better time than any, that he could at least clear Michael.

“You?” he asked.

“Fine, I suppose,” Michael answered. Bucky could see the slight uncertainty in Michael’s eyes, of still not fully coping what had happened that tore their intimate relationship apart.

“Agent Romanov was telling me the other night, of some of the music that emerged after the fall of the Soviet Union,” he said. “A lot more hopeful than the bombastic anthems they currently blast over the radios.”

“Similar to the illegal songs that the pirate radios play?” Michael asked, curious.

Because Michael’s duties as a MI-5 agent were mostly counter-intelligence, Bucky knew that he had to listen to pirate and propaganda radios alike. Every radio frequency in between the two was also monitored and analyzed for any clues to orders or secret messages.

During the war, Allied and Axis orders and messages were sent through such frequencies. Now, it was the Soviets, United States, and their allies on either side that utilized such methods in their ‘war’.

“Some, not all,” Bucky answered. “One of the lyrics she told me about sounded quite nice: Дождь – вселенной голоса.”

He didn’t know why he was anticipating an explosive change of personality from Michael. But that moment of hesitation, of fright, and of anticipation passed. Michael blinked a couple of times before a faint smile quirked up his lips.

“It sounds lovely,” Michael simply said. “Like an anthem of hope for millions who want peace.”

As Bucky quietly let go of the breath he hadn’t realize he had been holding, the smile on Michael’s face drooped ever so slightly. “I… miss us, Bucky,” he heard him say.

The elation he thought he would feel with such words, never came. Instead, Bucky didn’t know why he felt a hollow feeling with Michael’s words. He was half-afraid that perhaps it had been Steve’s oblique confession last night, that had finally settled his heart.

But that didn’t make any sense. Even when Bucky had longed for a future that would never be, Michael had known, accepted, and lived with the fact that he, Bucky, could not fully love him. Now, there was just… emptiness.

“This is who I am, Michael,” he said. “I’m not going to change.”

“You have,” Michael answered. “I don’t know what’s happened to you over the past week, but you seem a lot stronger, and I’m not just talking about physicality. You seem more focused. I miss that, and everything else that we had.”

“Can… will you forgive me?” Bucky hesitatingly asked.

“No and yes,” Michael answered. “I see you, and every time I do, I’m reminded of Thomas Paine’s words: _these are the times that try men’s souls – the summer soldier and sunshine patriot will, in this cris_ _i_ _s, shrink from the service of their country; but he that stands it now, deserves the love and thanks of man and woman_. At the core of everything it’s who you are, and who you always will be.”

He saw Michael shake his head slightly, giving him a repentant smile. “I’ve been a fool to not have seen that, until now,” Michael continued. “That you are the unstated soldier within those words: a winter soldier of war and peace.”

~~~

– _0_ _8_ _:_ _57_ _–_

“He’s late. Howard’s never late.”

Steve glanced over to see David checking his wristwatch, before looking up at the double doors that led into the facility. With Howard being Howard, Steve could see an excuse being the obvious – Howard had conveniently ran into a ‘beautiful dame’ and got distracted.

But that excuse did not match the latest briefing that Jarvis and Michael had given to Peggy about protecting Howard and David, respectively. It had been a surprise to all of them that in the past month-and-a-half since Howard had begun working on the time-traveling device, the inventor had not been spending what little free time he had chasing skirts.

Most of Howard and David’s free time had been spent going over how to improve, or invent new components for the time-traveling device. It certainly explained why the two always went straight to work whenever they came in – plan for the day already hashed out the previous night.

Slowly, they had enlisted Michael’s help with simple assistance in holding together or wiring various components. It was mainly because Tony was also being cautious about explaining more advanced and not-yet-discovered concepts within the blueprints, that Tony didn’t help the two as much as he used to.

Ever since Peggy and Bucky had revealed the fact that there was a mole with the SSR ranks, Tony had been more reticent, than his egotistical talkative self. While Steve understood that some of the technology he carried definitely should not be known to anyone here – especially Pym Particles – it did make for the repair and integration of safeguards into the device a little more difficult.

Peggy was not yet here this morning – again. She was currently attending the debrief that Chief Thompson was holding for the year’s end. Projects, cases, budgets, and everything that needed to be worked, had been discussed for the past few days. Today was the final day though, and Steve was glad she would be returning soon.

“Maybe this one time, Howard did run into—” Steve began.

A strange, three-toned beeping noise that crackled from the radio speaker mounted to the far wall, interrupted him. It was a descending tone, not the constant tone that was usually associated with an emergency beacon.

But emergency or not, it was still a beacon, and someone activated it.

The doors leading into the laboratory proper opened and closed a few seconds later. Steve saw Michael slip in, armed with a rifle, before tapping out a series of alpha-numeric code on the keypad next to the doors. An audible hum filled the air.

“Beacon from Howard,” Michael curtly stated. “Not sure what’s set it off, but it’s not the emergency one. Bucky’s ordered a partial lock down, while he and Lorraine go investigate.”

Steve didn’t breathe a sigh of relief. Howard’s safety concerned him as much as Peggy’s. He immediately ascended the stairs, as Michael ordered David to prepare whatever was needed to destroy the time-traveling device.

“I’m going to get something from my room,” he stated, as Michael brushed past him, to ensure that all other areas within the facility were secured.

Natasha had appeared and merely glanced at him, before silently gesturing that she was going to the rooftops. He nodded once in return.

In a complete lock down, Steve would not even have access to his room. The doors that led into the stairs and down to the floor would’ve been completely armed and locked. Instead, the hum that filled the air was indicative of a partial lock down. Any power surge, explosion, or something destructive detected by the sensors would active the complete lock down.

Tony had been the one to design, build, and implement the system using 1940’s technology. It was advanced enough that his friend had destroyed the blueprints, and refused to tell anyone how it worked – other than what the sensors did.

As worried as Steve was, he forced himself to be calm. Bucky was out there, making sure Howard and Jarvis were safe. After yesterday’s victory against the commands, he knew that he did not have much to be worried about – even if he still worried over Bucky.

He still found it slightly surprising that he was feeling a little hurt by the fact that Bucky had spurned him. He hadn’t meant to say those words to his best friend, but they had tumbled out of his lips on their own accord.

But what was said, was said – and done was done.

Even then, Steve still wished—

He physically shook his head as he entered his room. He couldn’t afford to linger on drifting thoughts about Bucky – not when there was the possibility of danger looming before them.

Steve paused as he clipped Mjolnir to his side. Tony was standing near the window, pushing the closed curtain back slightly. It was an extremely odd sight that Steve didn’t know what to make of it for a second.

“Tony,” Steve began, going over to his friend.

He made sure that he was not standing anywhere near Tony’s immediate reach. He wasn’t sure what his friend was looking at, except that he saw David moving a few items around. Michael was making his way around the device, and had stopped at the area where Tony had been working.

Michael picked up a small device from the workbench and turned it over in his hands. It took Steve a moment to realize that it was identical to the wristband that he wore. Tony had finished making the time-jump suit for Bucky, and stored it within the wrist band.

He saw his brother-in-law look up, and spotted the two of them peering through the window. Tony waved at Michael, but it didn’t escape Steve’s notice that there was a mirthless smile on his friend’s face. Then, the curtain was abruptly closed.

“Tony?” Steve questioned.

“Tinker, tailor, soldier, sailor, rich man, poor man, beggar man, thief,” he heard Tony mutter while frowning and staring at the closed curtain.

“Tony,” Steve tried again, slightly annoyed.

“You ever consider the possibility that your brother-in-law is a Soviet mole?”

Steve gaped at Tony. “What the hell, Tony?” he managed to utter.

“Natasha was talking with your boyfriend, after you left,” Tony stated. “Which, by the way, Steve, explains a whole hell lot about you. Never realized that you swung that way, or are comfortable with an open—”

“Tony,” Steve cut in, irritated. “You point about Michael—”

“Is valid,” Tony interrupted, seemingly getting back on track. “Natasha made an extremely good point about Aunt Peggy and Barnes not bothering to clear my dad, Dr. Brewster, or Michael.”

“Wait, what?” Steve questioned, surprised. “Surely you’re not accusing—”

“Your boyfriend is already investigating—”

“Tony, stop calling Bucky that,” Steve ground out, extremely annoyed. “He’s not my boyfriend. End of story.”

Rather than acknowledge the fault, Steve felt another layer of irritation settle within him as he saw Tony merely shrug. “I completely doubt that my Dad is a Soviet spy,” Tony continued. “I want to doubt Dr. Brewster being one as well – I mean come on, look at him. The kid’s worse than you when it comes to lying.”

“And Michael is not a Soviet spy either,” Steve finished up.

“Then why the keen interest in my tech, or helping Dad and Dr. Brewster with their work?” Tony questioned.

“Because you’re certainly not helping them,” Steve pointed out. “They come to you with questions, and you’re always saying you’re busy with other parts of the project.”

“But why assign a counter-intelligence agent to be a bodyguard?” Tony continued to ask. “Growing up, Jarvis told me that he wished he had training from the Home Office to be a proper bodyguard for Dad. They have actual people trained for that capacity.”

“Would it kill you twice over to have a little empathy for the fact that Michael might’ve wanted to spend time with his family – with Peggy, Tony?” Steve asked, not even bothering to apologize for his slightly poor choice of words. “We see little of him enough with his duties for MI-5, as is, Tony.”

“Everything I know of Colonel Philips tells me that he’s a hard-ass. He doesn’t assign people to projects or missions based on sympathy, Rogers,” Tony stated. “You’re working on that DC case with him and that viper of a woman, Lorraine. You tell me if he’s really that soft, or not.”

Steve didn’t immediately answer, though he did settle for glaring at Tony. He was determined not to doubt the integrity of any of the three. It did dishearten him to hear that Bucky had his doubts.

Yet, he did not dismiss Bucky’s intuition. Every single time that intuition of his poked around, it uncovered far more than the initial investigation. But Steve was certain that Howard, Michael, and David were going to be cleared.

“They’re not spies for the Soviets,” he quietly stated. “None of them are.”

“For the sake of returning these stones, I hope you’re right,” Tony answered just as evenly.

~~~

_S_ _SR Headquarters…_

– _0_ _9_ _:_ _1_ _0_ _–_

The phone in the conference room rang. Its shrill bell startled all of them, before Daniel – nearest to the phone – picked it up. The operators on the first floor knew not to call into the conference room unless it was an emergency.

“Stark’s activated his beacon,” Daniel stated, even before he hung up the phone. “Location is near Polytechnic.”

“Oh no—” Peggy began, rising from her seat.

“Not the emergency one though,” Daniel continued to say, getting up as well. Thompson and the other agents present for the meeting were rising from their seats at nearly the same time.

“Spooked then?” Thompson asked.

“Possibly,” Daniel answered.

“Daniel and I will investigate, and radio if we need backup,” Peggy stated.

“Report when you have answers, Carter,” Thompson answered, dismissing them.

She and Daniel hurried through the nearly empty bullpen of Headquarters. Wasting little time when they got to the first floor, they took the nearest car – Daniel’s car. The snow was still falling, but it didn’t seem heavier than earlier in the morning.

Still, the drive to get to Howard’s location was a little slower than she liked – even with Daniel’s rotary light on and visible to other cars. But there was nothing they could do about the weather delaying them.

They were not first on the scene, when they arrived. Peggy saw caught a glimpse of Bucky disappearing around the corner of the building. Lorraine was warily looking around, gun in her hands, and had briefly focused on both her and Daniel when they stepped out.

“Howard and Mr. Jarvis, glad to see both of you unhurt,” she said, as Lorraine stepped slightly over. “Agent Lorraine, report.”

“Mr. Stark claims that he and Mr. Jarvis—” Lorraine began.

“Claims,” Howard began, looking slightly offended. “Come on, Meredith, we did see them—”

“—were unexpectedly surrounded by the same creatures Headquarters described in their reports about the five incidents, ma’am,” Lorraine continued as if Howard had never interrupted her. “Agent Barnes said that he may have caught a glimpse before they disappeared the moment we got there. I was not fast enough to see them through the snow. Agent Barnes is currently performing a perimeter check.”

“I’ll catch up to his position,” Daniel stated, drawing his gun out, and left.

“Barnes, Sousa’s incoming to your position,” Lorraine stated, as she briefly touched her ear, indicating that both she and Bucky were wired up for radio communication.

“The creatures didn’t attack?” Peggy asked, frowning.

“Nope,” Howard interrupted, shaking his head slightly. “Just sat there, growling at us. Didn’t let us leave or move, until help arrived.”

“Any other witnesses?” she asked.

“If there were any civilians peeking out of their homes at the time of the incident, they’ve made themselves scarce, ma’am,” Lorraine answered, just as Jarvis shook his head.

“It is quite convenient that these creatures ‘attacked’ when there were no other persons present,” Jarvis stated, before turning and pointing to a place on the sidewalk. “Mr. Stark and I were standing right there, and the creatures were clearly walking along the ground.”

“But no footprints from the creatures,” Peggy finished up. The rate of the snow falling made it impossible for imprints to be covered fast enough – she clearly saw Howard and Jarvis’ footprints still there.

A few seconds later, Bucky and Daniel returned. Both had grim looks on their faces, as they shook their heads. Neither had found any evidence of the sixteen remaining Black Widows within the area.

That was both worrying and relieving. A firefight against sixteen Widows at this very moment was something that none of them were completely equipped to deal with.

“Daniel, if you would please inform Chief Thompson of what happened,” Peggy said a moment later. “I’ll be returning with Howard and the others to the facility. I’ll join you at Headquarters once everything is secured.”

“Will do, Peggy,” Daniel answered. “Stay safe. If the snow keeps up like this, I’d stay there if at all possible. Thompson can go eat his shoe, if he’s going to recall you in this weather.”

Despite the situation, Peggy smiled and nodded. “Thank you, Daniel.”

As Daniel got into his car and drove away, Peggy accepted a spare two-way radio from Lorraine. She made her way to Howard’s car and took the front seat, while Jarvis helped Howard into the back, before taking the driver’s seat. Lorraine and Bucky had returned to their car. As soon as they were all ready, began the slow journey back to the facility.

The roads were slippery, but Peggy was not paying too much to how Jarvis was handling the car. She was instead, looking up and around, trying to spot anything of interest through the snow.

Nothing from Bucky or Lorraine was crackling through their two-way radios, as they continued to drive. Peggy took the chance to glance back towards Howard, asking, “How long do you and David need to get the device up and running, minimally?”

“Hour, hour-and-a-half tops,” Howard answered. “But Pegs, if something like whatever the hell that Cull Obsidian thing appears again—”

“If it happens again, we will deal with it,” Peggy answered. “This was a warning. I’m certain of it. If they’re watching you, then it’s fairly certain that they already have eyes on the facility. We can’t let those stones fall into enemy hands.”

~~~

_B_ _rooklyn Facility…_

– _1_ _1_ _:_ _3_ _2_ _–_

Bucky looked up as he saw the door to the locker rooms open and close. He saw it from the reflection of the tiny mirror within the locker he was standing at.

Steve had entered, a melancholic countenance about him. Even more surprising was that Bucky heard and saw Steve flick the lever to lock the door.

“I told them,” Steve quietly stated. “They only know who the Winter Soldier is, and why you’re needed for this mission.”

Bucky silently nodded, grateful for the fact that Steve had locked the door – if only temporarily. At this very moment, the Winter Soldier was not something he wanted to discuss with anyone else, except for Steve.

“What are you doing?” Steve asked after a moment, giving him a slightly curious look.

“The red star,” he simply stated. “It was prominent in your memories. And I remember waking up to see it on my own arm.”

“Bucky…” he heard Steve plaintively say. “May I?”

Bucky glanced down at the paintbrush and jar of red paint. As much as he wanted to complete it himself, he knew that he didn’t have the steady, precise hand for what needed to be done. Silently, he nodded.

Steve strode over and gently plucked the brush and jar out of his hands. Bucky held himself still, and tried not to watch Steve carefully, meticulously apply each brush stroke of red on his arm.

But his fascination at watching Steve draw, paint, and do what he did with any sort of media was stronger than his aversion to what he knew needed to be done for the illusion to work. The long spindly fingers of Steve’s hands had grown a little thicker, stronger by the serum. But those fingers of his were still delicate and precise in handling the paintbrush.

Peggy had ordered the return of the Time and Mind Stones – two for the price of one trip. Bucky had not wanted to carry out the 2012 mission just yet, but with what just happened to Howard, and the manifestation of the Time Stone a few days ago, it made sense.

The return of the two stones would leave Steve with three stones remaining: Reality, Space, and Soul. Of what little he knew about the stones, the Tesseract was the most powerful of the three left – and could be easily kept away.

Bucky hadn’t even made an excuse to go to the locker rooms to prepare. He just left without a word to any of them. All he had done was nod once towards Steve – to let him know that Steve was free to tell them about the Winter Soldier. And, if Steve chose to, to also tell them what the Winter Soldier had done—

“It’s finished,” Steve’s whisper shattered the silence.

Bucky saw him pull slightly away, the paintbrush tipped in bright red drooping down. He briefly looked up into Steve’s eyes – full of regret, sadness, and something else that he couldn’t identify – and looked away.

“Thank you,” he managed to say, swallowing to try to alleviate the dryness in his throat.

He heard Steve put the paintbrush down on the bench before saying, “I’m sorry, Bucky. I’m sorry for everything. I wish I had known—”

“You did what you could, Steve,” he quietly answered.

Bucky wanted to admonish Steve for his words – that should have been said to his future self instead – he didn’t. Just the tiredness, the heavy amount of guilt he heard in Steve’s voice told him that Steve had tried to apologize to his future self.

It seemed like ages ago that they had been celebrating the fact that he had mastered the conditioning and stop commands. Ages ago that he heard Steve’s oblique confession… It had only been less than twelve hours ago – and now…

He knew that he should’ve been mentally readying himself to _become_ the Winter Soldier, but for this, he was willing to delay it as long as necessary. He stepped forward and tightly embraced Steve.

“We’ll be all right, Steve,” he said. “You and me, we’ll be all right. Forward and together, until the end of the line.”

He heard the brush clatter to the floor, before Steve returned his embrace. He didn’t know how long he and Steve held onto each other, as if they were trying not to drown. When he felt Steve begin to pull away, he let go.

There were no tears, nor any trace of regret or sorrow in Steve’s eyes. Bucky finally identified the look in Steve’s eyes that had initially eluded him: unconditional acceptance and love. He also realized that Steve did not fear him immersing himself in the deadly persona of the Soviet asset named Winter Soldier.

“Are you ready?” Steve softly asked in concern, after a few seconds of silence.

“Yeah,” he answered, nodding once.

“Tony finished creating the time-jump suit for you. He’s also managed to modify, and weave a small amount of vibranium into your uniform,” Steve said, going over to one of the lockers.

“Steve,” Bucky began, surprised at Tony’s generosity.

He saw him open it, before reaching up to take out a small bundle of folded black clothing. There was a half-mask and glasses sitting on top of the bundle.

“Why?” he asked.

Instead of answering him, Steve placed the bundle down in front of him, saying, “Suit up, Winter Soldier.”

~~~

– _1_ _2:04_ _–_

Peggy wasn’t the only one to turn towards the sound of the double doors opening and closing at the top of the walkway that overlooked onto the floor. Her eyes followed Steve entering, dressed in a bright blue uniform.

It had a bright silver-white star front and center, a single chevron stripe on his each of his shoulders, and torso clad in white-red stripes. A bandoleer of small compartments was also wrapped around his waist. Dark red, shin-high boots were wrapped around his legs, with brighter red flying gloves wrapping around his hands.

It was almost as if she were watching Captain America, reborn with a uniform that was reminiscent of the one he wore during the war. His purposeful stride down the stairs, and confident scoop up of his shield, gave them a boost of hope.

However, it was Bucky’s entrance shortly after Steve, that drew a couple of gasps – and a visible flinch from Natasha. He was clad in black combat trousers, black vest, and armed to the teeth with an assortment of weapons – including his sniper rifle. The black mask and glasses across his face just made him look even more menacing.

Peggy still could not believe that the Winter Soldier – the Soviet’s greatest asset and weapon in another timeline – was Bucky.

If those gathered around the platform had gathered closer because of Steve and the hope he brought into their eyes by his mere presence, they recoiled when Bucky – no, when the Winter Soldier approached. From just the way the Winter Soldier carried himself, Peggy could feel absolute fear and danger sinking into her.

But, there was nothing in Steve’s eyes that told Peggy how he felt about the visceral reactions from everyone else. She saw him step up to the platform, glancing at her for a moment before activating the time-traveling suit.

Natasha and Tony immediately disappeared.

The Winter Soldier had taken the bangle from its place on the table and snapped it to his wrist. He too, tapped the inset and activated the time-traveling suit. Some words were exchanged between Steve and the Winter Soldier, before they both tapped a few things within the underside of their left wrists – the coordinates for travel.

“Ready?” Steve’s authoritative question directed at Howard caused a few to jump.

“R-ready,” Howard scrambled up to the console.

Steve’s nod was the last thing Peggy saw, before two tiny pops filled the air where Captain America and the Winter Soldier had been.

~*~*~*~


	18. Pretender – Part 4 – 2012

**Chapter 13: Pretender – Part 4 – 2012**

Bucky never thought he’d see New York City as a war zone. But that was what he and Steve popped into, even in the alleyway. Debris – large and small, things on fire, dead creatures, sirens, faint shouts, and the smell of acrid smoke and rot filled the air.

It felt like Europe during the war, again.

Gone were most of the familiar buildings that he recognized in this part of downtown Manhattan. Towering spires of metal rose up to the sky, some of them decorated with fire, others squashed and sliced from their former grandiose height.

“All right,” Steve mutter, deactivating his time-jump armor.

Bucky did the same. He quietly followed Steve to the end of alleyway, and peered out at almost the same time as Steve did. To his slight surprise, he saw Tony, Scott Lang, Steve, and the gigantic green form of Dr. Bruce Banner a little ways down the debris-covered road.

The four briefly conferred with each other, before he saw Lang, Tony, and Steve peel off into another alleyway. Banner had gone the other way, while ripping his shirt off, and smashed what was left of a car to the ground. Considering what Bucky remembered seeing from Steve’s memories of the initial fight against Loki and the Chitauri, and then what Steve had shown them of their ‘time heist’, Dr. Banner was trying to blend in.

“I don’t want to pop in unexpectedly next to, or near the Sorcerer Supreme’s base of operations. So, I’m going to try to wrap an illusion around both of us while we follow Bruce,” Steve said.

“Wait… we have a wizard in our realities?” Bucky couldn’t help but say.

“Wizards,” Steve answered, grinning. Banner’s movements away from the hot zone drew their attention back to the task at hand.

“Stay close,” he heard Steve murmur, as Bucky saw him curl his left hand around the exposed red stone.

“Always,” Bucky answered.

Together, they took off at a fairly fast pace across the ground. Occasionally, Steve glanced up to make sure that they were still following Banner, while avoiding most of the stray enemies.

There were a few times where they had to take action though – and it was mostly Steve following up on Banner’s attacks on stray Chitauri, guiding civilians away from the battle. Bucky made sure to slip away so that he wasn’t seen where Steve was, until they were clear and could resume secretly following Banner.

At long last, they finally got to a familiar-looking building. Bucky remembered the building quite well: it had been where the lawyer who helped his mother execute his father’s Will, worked.

It was the small flashes of orange disks, and the fact that Banner had landed on the roof and paused, that told Bucky that this was the place. Where a wizard – or wizards, according to Steve – lived.

He couldn’t help but wonder if lawyers still worked in the building, or if, like the SSR, the building was just a front. Mentally shaking his head slightly, he refocused himself.

A tap on his arm, had him looking at Steve and his silent signals to climb up to the building adjacent to where the Sorcerer Supreme’s base was. As much as he wasn’t entirely convinced it was a good idea, it looked as if Steve had swapped out the Reality Stone for the Time Stone.

Bucky nodded once, and quietly leapt up after Steve onto the fire escape.

Carefully, they made their way up, occasionally pausing as a few stray Chitauri on strange-looking flying things zipped by. Some of them were blasted out of the sky by orange discs originating from the rooftop. Others veered away as soon as their comrades were hit.

Once on the rooftop, he crouched low, and crept after Steve until they were positioned behind the half-demolished storage shed of the building. Steve peeked out again, and the second Bucky did so as well, his eyes widened in surprise.

The woman… man… it was a little difficult for him to tell the gender of the yellow-orange clothed person, with the person facing away from them, _punched_ Banner. The green part of Banner flew back, while a man with dark hair remained behind, looking quite surprised himself.

“Neat trick,” he heard Steve mutter, before returning to hide behind the shed.

“What…” Bucky began, glancing over at Steve, before realizing that Steve could not see his expression or his eyes.

“Keep the lens and mask on,” Steve said, shaking his head slightly. “I think it’s better we don’t ask about that. Looks like an out-of-body experience that neither of us wants to experience.”

A brilliant flash of light coming from the skies above Grand Central Station and what used to be Stark Tower drew Bucky’s attention for a brief moment. He saw the funnel that connected the world to where the Chitauri came from, slip close. The blue-black cloud was sealing up fast, and a few seconds later, it was as if the skies had never rained fire.

The Battle of New York was over.

“Now what?” he asked.

“Now we wait for Bruce to collect the Time Stone, before we return it,” Steve answered. “By this time, Scott, Tony, and I have observed and have begun to make our way to key positions in Stark Tower. We’re going to have to teleport there, using the Space Stone, to intercept my 2012 self. You want to surprise HYDRA in the elevator? I heard it could be fun.”

At that, Bucky couldn’t help but grin, even though he knew that Steve couldn’t see it at all. He knew that Steve was all but explicitly giving him an invitation to have at it with HYDRA, within a confined space. It would be similar to what Steve did to STRIKE in 2014 within SHIELD’s elevator, except that with the Winter Soldier there.

The Winter Soldier was going to ‘teach’ HYDRA a lesson.

“Lesson number one: they shouldn’t have let you take the stone,” he stated.

“Gullible,” Steve answered, faintly grinning. “It’s written all over their foreheads.”

“Oh, really?” he sarcastically answered.

At that, Steve chuckled. Bucky wanted to join in, but there was only so much he could do to not fully shake himself out of the Winter Soldier persona. It didn’t mean he had to remain in a cold, blank, and calculated state of being, but it did help.

“What will you be doing?” he asked after a few moments of silence.

“Dragging America’s ass up to safety,” Steve stated, though Bucky heard the touch of sarcasm when he had stated ‘America’s ass’.

_I_ _t is a fine, shapely ass_ , he couldn’t help the brief thought that broke through the mental dam that he had constructed to keep the Winter Soldier persona active.

“I know several HYDRA agents, but I didn’t know all of them,” Steve continued. “When HYDRA goes down, I don’t want myself to be caught in potential crossfire. So pick the floor that you’ll keep HYDRA and the elevator trapped on, and I’ll bring myself several floors above that.”

“I’m presuming Natalia and Tony are helping in some way or form?”

“Yep,” Tony’s affirmation came as soon as the man popped into existence near them. “I’d say pick some floor below thirty-three. That place has an easy access point for me to build a container for the Mind Stone, and interface with JARVIS.”

“Jarvis?” Bucky asked.

While it was natural to assume that a few who had served during the war would still be alive this day and age, he thought that Jarvis was at least a few years older than himself, Peggy, or Howard. The butler/bodyguard of Howard Stark would’ve been at least over 100 years of age in 2012.

“Just A Rather Very Intelligent System,” Tony answered, before shaking his head slightly. “Not the point. Anyways, Rogers, I’m going to assume that you and Romanov are breaking into the Triskelion to release the files?”

“Yeah,” Steve answered. “That program you had running on the Helicarrier – is it still accessible, or localized to just the base?”

“Oh, look at you, Mr. I’m Just Faking it For Not Understanding Technology,” Tony stated, tone dripping with sarcasm.

“Tony—” Steve began, annoyed.

“Yes, I can interface with it,” Tony answered, almost chuckling to himself. “They might’ve closed the primary backdoor, but there’s more than one way in to get that program reactivated again.”

“Yeah,” Tony confirmed again, before Bucky saw him focus his attention on him. “Choose a floor below thirty-three then, Barnes.”

“And don’t worry about the noise, and two instances of myself falling several stories after you’re done with HYDRA, Buck,” Steve stated.

Before Bucky could ask him to clarify that rather ominous statement, Tony suddenly disappeared, as Steve peeked out from behind the shed again. Bucky did so as well, and saw that Banner had curled his hand around the Time Stone, and was looking towards Stark Tower. The yellow-orange clad wizard was no where to be seen.

“I can only presume that neither of you wanted to be seen by Dr. Banner.”

Bucky had a knife already half-way out of its sheathe even before the feminine-sounding voice had finished. He had also half-turned, and about to step forward to attack, when he stopped himself.

Standing before the two of them was the yellow-orange garbed wizard. Neither he, nor Steve – judging from the similar stance that he had also taken – had heard her arrive.

Bucky realized that the Sorcerer Supreme looked familiar. At least familiar enough to what he remembered of the primary clerk – not bald, but with a full head of hair – at the law office, who had helped his mother. The clerk had patiently walked his mother through every part of the Will, explaining the nuanced differences between an execution of a Will in the US versus England.

“Captain America,” the Sorcerer stated. There was a touch of humor and awe in her voice, though Bucky saw a twinkle of sarcasm laced in her eyes.

“Ma’am,” Steve greeted formally. “Or is it sir?”

Bucky flicked his eyes over to Steve, unsure as to why Steve couldn’t discern the wizard’s gender. It was the mysterious smile on the wizard’s face that drew his attention back.

“And the Winter Soldier,” the Sorcerer continued. “You are wise not to step into the Sanctum Sanctorum in your current state, Winter Soldier. Hosts of Ghost Rider, even if they are not directly linked, are not welcomed.”

“But it’s 2012,” Steve spoke up. “Private Barnes, the one that Ghost Rider took as host—”

“Time and different realities are tricky rivers to navigate, aren’t they?” the Sorcerer stated, faintly smiling that mysterious smile again. “You have something of mine, Captain?”

In response, Bucky saw Steve silently open up his left hand. The green stone sat gleaming in his gloved hand, before it was suddenly lifted out. Bucky watched as it was slowly guided by some manner of magic that fascinated him, back to what looked like an eye-shaped container.

As soon as the stone settled within the container hanging around the Sorcerer’s neck, he saw her do something with her hands to close it. “Was it worth it all, Captain?” the Sorcerer asked.

“Yes,” Steve steadily answered. “Except for the sacrifices that had to be made to make it happen.”

The Sorcerer sagely nodded once, before saying, “They’ll be with you, Captain Rogers, until your duty is complete. Treasure the remaining time you have with them, in the hopes that this will never again, have to be done.”

“I will, and thank you,” Steve said.

Steve didn’t so much as jog off, but instead, enveloped both of them in a blue-black cloud of cold. Bucky only had a moment to brace himself before an icy sensation shot through his body.

It felt like going into cryo, but not, as a second later, he blinked and found himself within a rather spartan, but elegant-looking hall. It was movement from Steve – or rather Steve’s uniform – that briefly drew his attention.

Steve’s bright blue uniform was rippling into his dark blue SHIELD uniform. Bucky’s attention was drawn away with Tony’s barked command, “Zephyr Protocol, JARVIS. Copy?”

There was silence in the air before an unexpected, disembodied voice that seemed to have come from above them said, “Copy and comply, sir.”

“Good,” Bucky heard Tony state, almost purring the word. “We’re in the clear, Cap,” Tony stated to Steve, before leading the way down the hall.

Bucky followed Steve, half-marveling at the offices that he saw beyond clear glass panes. While the backdrop of destruction was sobering, he could not believe that machines – computers as both Steve and Tony had stated numerous amounts of times before – were the among those that pushed technology to the forefront it was at this point in time.

At the end of the hall, there was a lobby of sorts with two elevators on one side, and a gleaming laboratory of sorts on the other. Tony pointed to one on the right, saying, “That’s where HYDRA’s coming from. The other will take you to whatever floors you two need to be at. Barnes, just call out to JARVIS when you’re ready to hold the elevator.”

“JARVIS won’t hurtle the elevator to the ground?” Bucky asked.

A rather wolfish smile curled up Tony’s lips, before the inventor stated, “I like where you head’s at Barnes. But as much as I want those bastards to pay with their lives, seeing them get served with justice and sentencing is much more satisfying.”

“Which they will get,” Steve answered, giving both him and Tony a slightly reproachful look. Bucky ignored the look, as Steve then asked, “How long will it take you to build the containment unit, Tony?”

“At least a half-hour,” Tony stated. “Provided that my other self doesn’t realize that I’ve invoked Zephyr Protocol on JARVIS.”

Bucky saw Steve frown slightly, before Tony waved his hand dismissively. Despite expecting Steve to say a word of protest or caution, Bucky was slightly surprised that Steve merely reached out and hit the down button on the elevator.

A few seconds, there was a faint _ding_ and the doors to the empty elevator slid open. Steve entered, and Bucky stepped in after him. With one last look at Tony, who was now in the laboratory, the door slid close.

Bucky reached past Steve and hit the 23 rd  floor’s button. Both he and Steve silently rode down to that floor. Just as the elevator stopped, he heard Steve say, “Good hunting, Winter Soldier.”

Bucky nodded once as he stepped out. As soon as the door slid close, he took a deep breath. Slowly exhaling as he silenced every single thought, every wondrous awe at the future, and worry. He reached forward and hit the down button.

The seconds slowly ticked by, and it was the faint _ding_ again that sealed up everything else within his world – his mind. Ice-cold, tension-filled frostiness, and wired tight, Bucky slipped back into the persona of the Winter Soldier.

_You are a winter soldier who is ever vigilant in his defense of life and liberty._

The doors slid open, revealing an elevator full of STRIKE soldiers that he recognized, along with Agent Sitwell. They took one look at him, and the Winter Soldier saw their eyes widen in horror.

“Oh shit—” Sitwell exclaimed.

The Winter Soldier didn’t even allow the agent to finish his exclamation, and struck.

His snap-kick solidly connected with Sitwell, folding him in half. Even before the agent slammed into the STRIKE soldier directly behind him, the Winter Soldier was already lashing out with two quick punches – left and right – at the two soldiers next to Sitwell. He moved further into the elevator.

Someone had tried to hit the emergency close button, but he had smashed the hand of the STRIKE soldier into the panel. The emergency stop was activated as the doors remained open, but none could get out – he made sure of that.

The Winter Soldier, upended another STRIKE member into the ceiling with a simple grab and throw of his left hand. He caught wild movement out of the corner of his right, and raised his right arm to block the electric stick that tried to smash into his head.

The jolt from the stick cascaded harmlessly down his vibranium-weaved clothing, as he wrenched the stick from the muscular-looking STRIKE soldier. Flipping the stick in his hand, the Winter Soldier jammed it into the soldier’s neck.

The soldier twitched and writhed before succumbing to the stick’s shock. At nearly the same time, the Winter Soldier hand immediately held up his left hand to deflect the bullets from the gun another STRIKE soldier had managed to pull out.

Taking two steps forward, he crushed the gun in the soldier’s hand, ignoring the soldier’s scream of pain. A solid punch to the soldier’s head was enough to silence him. Another snap-kick was also enough to silence two other soldiers within the cramped elevator.

Unfortunately, his movement further into the elevator had left a sliver of window open, and the lone conscious, but heavily bruised soldier – Rumlow – had slipped out. The Winter Soldier turned from where he was, and plucked out a combat knife.

Rumlow was five steps away from the elevator and gaining, when the long blade sunk directly into and through his left leg – directly above the knee. The STRIKE soldier fell, screaming and clutching his leg in pain.

The Winter Soldier merely stepped around the unconscious bodies within the elevator, casually and slowly making his way to where Rumlow was. On the other hand, Rumlow was still trying to get away, scraping his useless leg underneath him, trail of blood slowly pooling out.

“Look, man,” Rumlow desperately stated, when it became clear that he could not get away. “Tell Pierce that we’re – I’m sorry. We didn’t mean to give the fucking thing to Rogers! He fucking played us like fools—”

A horrendous crash of glass to their left, briefly drew both of their attention. The Winter Soldier saw two bright-blue, red-white striped clad bodies flash by in their fall—

_Steve!_

—and promptly remembered what Steve had stated to him earlier. That for him to not be alarmed with the two instances of Steve’s selves falling.

“The fuck—” Rumlow began.

Bucky immediately returned his attention to the HYDRA soldier. One simple kick to the head was all that it took to silence Rumlow. Disgust welled up within him as Bucky then took the man by the vest and dragged him back into the elevator.

As tempted as he was to yank his combat knife out of Rumlow, his Winter Soldier persona had struck to kill Rumlow – but slowly. The soldier was already slowly bleeding out, but would survive if he got medical intervention within the next few hours. Yanking the knife out would drop Rumlow’s chances of survival down to less than a half-hour.

“JARVIS, hold the elevator here, please.”

“Yes, sir,” the disembodied voice stated. “And if I may ask… I heard Sir address you as ‘Barnes’. I am unsure of your combat style, but based on my parameters, search through the internet, along with your appearance next to an apparent third iteration of Captain Rogers, may I assume that you are Sergeant James Barnes?”

Bucky glanced up and around, wondering how the disembodied entity could see him. Seeing nothing that could indicate a camera of the sort, he stepped out of the elevator. There was nothing to indicate cameras around this elevator lobby area either.

He didn’t confirm the entity’s correct assumption though, and said, “Close the elevator doors as well, please.”

“As you wish, sir.”

As soon as the elevator doors closed, Bucky took another deep breath and let everything flood back into his mind. He was, however, careful to not completely let the Winter Soldier persona go. The main threat to this 2012-version of Steve’s life was dealt with, but the soldiers had not been killed.

It would’ve been easier to just kill everyone within the elevator, but Bucky adhered to the requests of Steve and Tony. He was not the Winter Soldier that everyone else knew about – he was his own, as was the name – and it would be shaped to the image he wanted to carve.

Reaching out, he hit the up button. Thirty seconds later, he was greeted with the faint _ding_ and the doors sliding open. Steve was standing to the side, with his 2012-self half-slung across his shoulders. Two shields were lying at the back of the elevator – and he caught Steve grinning faintly at him.

That grin slowly faded, as Bucky saw him look beyond him to see the trail of blood. “Rumlow tried to escape,” Bucky simply stated as he got into the elevator. “He’s not dead if he doesn’t pull the knife out of himself.”

“Oh,” Steve answered, before seemingly shrugging slightly. Steve then hit the button to close the doors and continue to bring them back up to the 33rd floor.

The reaction was so nonchalant that Bucky couldn’t help but stare at Steve. Even with his glasses still on, his apparent bafflement still got through to Steve as he caught Steve glancing over at him, before he shrugged slightly.

“Rumlow was a complete asshole,” Steve stated.

Bucky nodded once, but did not press for any further explanation. Steve’s uncharacteristic cursing was enough for him to understand just how miserable Rumlow had made Steve’s life – after the collapse of SHIELD.

The elevator deposited them to their floor. While Steve carried his 2012-self out, Bucky took up the shields and brought them out. Entering the lab after Steve, he placed the shields to the side while Steve situated his 2012-self against the wall.

“Got zip-ties around here, Tony?” Steve asked.

Bucky’s attention was drawn to what Tony was currently doing. It was not quite molding, but it was fascinating, watching the tiny fizzles and sparks of whatever containment unit was being created on the workbench.

“Can zip-ties even hold you? You might as well try cuffs,” Tony’s muffled voice from underneath the welder’s mask he wore, issued through. “Titanium ones are at the far side of the room. Strongest material I had on hand when I created them.”

“Wha—” Steve began, as Bucky saw him give Tony a bewildered look. “I _don’t_ even want to know why you were creating them—”

“What… never had kinky sex before, Rogers?” Tony retorted, as Bucky saw him flip the mask up.

The glare that Steve threw Tony was withering, but Bucky could see that Steve was flushing slightly red under his collar. Bucky was a little glad he had his half-mask and glasses on. His own reaction to the banter would have most likely drawn Tony’s attention onto him.

It was thankfully short-lived, as Tony then returned his attention to the compartment. Steve retrieved two sets of cuffs, and returned. Bucky watched Steve gingerly cuff his 2012-self around the wrists and ankles.

He didn’t need to ask why Steve was doing that to his 2012-self. It was obvious that when Steve’s 2012-self woke up, there was a great possibility that he could be combative, or summon the rest of the Avengers – which none of them needed.

“Press the center button, Rogers,” Tony’s unexpected statement came a moment later.

There was a moment’s pause from Steve, before Bucky saw him comply, and the cuffs suddenly turned into rather large ones that enveloped 2012-Steve’s forearms, and shins. He saw Steve frown before looking up towards Tony.

“Prototype for what I had installed in the suit in 2016,” was all Tony stated.

“Go for the legs,” Steve answered just as evenly, before standing back up.

Bucky didn’t quite understand the exchange, but he wasn’t going to ask either of them to elaborate. He understood enough to know that the year referenced was when the Avengers had fractured, due to disagreements. And that the cuffs on 2012-Steve were a prototype to whatever arsenal Tony had on him in 2016.

“Nat,” Steve called out, going over to pick up his shield.

“Ready, Steve,” Natasha answered, appearing. “And don’t worry, I can handle the load.”

“We’re going to have to make a stop at New Jersey first,” Steve said. “Are you sure?”

“Detour to Jersey?” Tony questioned before Bucky could. “Why—”

“Zola,” Natasha stated. “He’s still alive right now.”

“Shit,” Tony muttered.

Bucky frowned, as cold anger surged through him— “Yeah, I can still handle it,” Natasha stated. “How do you want to play it?”

He caught Steve’s worried glance over at him. Even without a request, he was already approaching, sensing that this particular detour was a spur of the moment thing.

“Are you willing to draw Zola’s attention away from Natasha and I?” Steve asked.

Bucky heard more than Steve’s careful tone in that request. There was deep concern. Steve knew what Zola had done to him, and his need for revenge during the war. It had been taken from him, with Zola blowing himself up in that base on September 24 th , 1946. Now, was another chance—

“So long as I get to kill him – properly – this time,” he stated with absolutely no inflection in his tone. He was not going to give Steve or Natasha any excuse to push him away from exacting revenge on Zola.

“He’s reams and reams of tape and databanks, James—” Natasha began.

“And all we need to do is cut off the communications portion of him,” Steve interrupted, shaking his head slightly at Natasha. “That’s it. Then—”

“I get to kill him?” Bucky pointedly asked.

In response Steve nodded once. There was nothing in his best friend’s eyes that spoke of admonishment, of the need to see justice through for a scientist who had been the sole cause of HYDRA regrowing.

“Let me guide the Space Stone’s teleportation then, Steve,” Natasha stated after a few moments of silence.

“Steve...” Tony’s sudden and uncharacteristically concerned tone drew their attention onto the inventor.

“It’s a short amount of time, Tony,” Steve stated. “Not like the aftermath of Cull Obsidian.”

Bucky frowned at the cryptic words, but neither his best friend, Natasha, or Tony elaborated. There was still a highly concerned look in Tony’s eyes – and it worried Bucky. Of what he knew of the man – especially from Steve’s memories – it didn’t seem like Tony ever really cared about what happened to Steve on a personal level.

This – Tony actually and personally caring – was unexpected and troubling.

“Short burst, Tony,” Steve stated, before Bucky saw him curl his gloved left hand into a fist.

Before Bucky could ask what the hell was going on, a blue-black cloud of cold enveloped him. He was then quickly wrapped in ice, before being deposited in what looked like an elevator.

Steve landed next to him, and for a split second, Bucky thought he saw a burst of sweat appear on Steve’s face. But the poor lighting within the elevator, and his slight disorientation from being transported by the Space Stone, seemingly erased that strange visage.

“Well, here we are,” Natasha stated from Bucky’s left as he turned slightly to see her standing next to the singular up-down button. “You all right, Steve?”

“Fine,” Steve curtly stated, giving Natasha an irritated look.

“The hell is going on, Steve?” Bucky questioned, before anything else could happen.

“Nothing.”

“Gamma radiation,” Natasha had stated the same time Steve had stated his denial.

“What?” Bucky asked, eyes widening in alarm. He reached up to take his glasses off so he didn’t have a slightly darkened view of Steve.

“Nothing that the serum can’t repair,” Steve immediately followed up, placing his gloved hand against Bucky’s own.

There was the silent invitation for Bucky to reach out and remove the glove from his hand to press against Steve’s forehead. Even with what little he knew of the effects of radiation on a body – he at least knew that fever accompanied it. Yet, he remembered how Steve had looked after in the aftermath of Cull Obsidian’s attack – had _felt_ _feverish_ _—_

“The stones emit mostly low levels of gamma radiation when idle. Barely enough to detect, but not enough to kill if dense materials are used to handle them,” Steve stated, as Bucky lowered his hand, seeing the truth in Steve’s eyes. “It’s what killed Tony. All six of them used together to cause an overdose of radiation—”

“And you’re _using_ them—” Bucky began, even more alarmed now.

“Vibranium armor holds it back,” Steve stated. “So does Natasha and Tony acting as barriers. A tiny surge will not kill me, Bucky. My serum prevents cellular degeneration that the burst of radiation causes – such as wielding two stones. So, our transportation using the Tesseract was nothing.”

“Nothing,” Bucky repeated.

“Nothing,” Steve answered.

Bucky heard the stubbornness in Steve’s tone. As doubtful has he felt, his glance over at Natasha yielded no other reasons to be overly worried. There was a calm and composed look on her face. The slight incline of her head towards Steve also indicated that Steve was not omitting anything from him.

“Ready?” Steve asked after a few seconds of silence. Bucky saw him position himself to the right.

That left Bucky standing in the center, and he silently nodded. He pushed all thoughts of just how dangerous the stones truly were, to the back of his thoughts.

Steve’s memories of finding Zola in the secret basement were drawn to the forefront of his thoughts. The glacial ocean of the Winter Soldier persona was still brimming at the edge, ready for him to dive back in.

Natasha pressed the button, and the elevator slowly and creakily descended. As Bucky slowly breathed in and out, he saw her disappear. Steve shifted slightly, bringing his shield up in a defensive position, as Bucky saw him curl his left hand into a fist again.

_You are a winter soldier who is ever vigilant in his defense of life and liberty._

The elevator ground to a halt and the doors slid open. Beyond what the Winter Soldier saw were metal cases full of blinking lights and electronics that he could barely begin to comprehend.

He stepped out, and the lights above him blinked on. He slowly moved forward and into the area. Yet, he did not look around in wonder – and focused on the console directly ahead.

A faint whine coming from the console alerted him to movement from the two cameras positioned on the top area of the console. The three screens were also seemingly blinking awake, as he stopped two feet before the center most one and stared at it.

[Initiate System.]

Patiently waiting, the Winter Soldier simply stood there, before a nasally-voiced echo broke into the relative silence. “The Winter Soldier. Born September 24 th , 1946.”

The voice grated upon him, but the Winter Soldier made himself still, kept himself as still as the deep ocean of cold anger within him. Zola had no hold upon him, and when ready, would receive his due.

“Mission report. Why are you here, Winter Soldier?”

“< _Ready to comply._ >” the Winter Soldier stated in Russian.

It was spontaneous, something that felt _right_ to say in the face of such a demanding question. Whether it was an artifact of what they had done to him before that fateful day, it didn’t matter. All that mattered was that the illusion remained as robust as possible.

“Who sent you, Winter Soldier? Alexander Pierce?”

The Winter Soldier remained silent. The memories that he had seen, that he knew of, told him that handlers were not known by name – only by face, by voice recognition. The question could not be answered by him.

“Ah, yes, I had forgotten,” Zola stated, a touch of sarcastic amusement in his tone. “We stripped you of all but the most important areas of cognitive function. You do not have to answer that question Winter Soldier. You are the perfect machine soldier—”

There was a slight burst of cold that brushed across the back of his neck and head behind him. Yet, the Winter Soldier did not immediately turn to see what it was. Even Zola’s startled, buzzed, but still nasally voiced, “What was that?” didn’t make him turn.

Instead, the Winter Soldier continued to stand at parade rest. As much as he wanted to immediately draw his sniper rifle out and unload all of his ammunition at the nearest banks of tape he could see, he did not.

The Winter Soldier did not react rashly when patiently waiting to kill.

And neither did Bucky.

After three slow heartbeats, Bucky finally turned, back facing Zola and his cameras. He had been tall enough and broad enough to mask Steve’s arrival, but not enough to completely conceal Steve’s shield that was hooked on Steve’s back.

Reaching up, he slowly removed both the half-mask and glasses. Steve’s blue-green eyes were steadily upon him, waiting for him to give the order to whatever he wanted him to do.

Bucky handed the mask and glasses over to Steve, who silently took it. As if reading his mind, Steve then silently unhooked his shield with his free hand, and drew it forward.

Taking the shield, Bucky took a deep breath, heartbeat still steady—

_B reathe—pause—heartbeat— turn— throw._

“No—!” Zola’s garbled, electronic scream seared through the air.

_Throw—draw back—three degrees right —throw—_

“морозилка!”

_Shift five degrees left —throw—shrapnel collateral damage._

“отъезд! желание—”

_Throw—heartbeat—shift two degrees left—throw—throw—throw—_

_Breathe._

Bucky caught the shield in his outstretched left hand, just as he felt Steve’s hand clamp around his right arm. He was partially dragged back, right before an I-beam clattered to the ground a few inches away from where he had been standing.

“Let’s go!” Steve shouted in him as secondary explosions bloomed all around the two of them. Bucky hadn’t even heard the first ones, but the place was definitely coming down upon them.

Ice immediately surrounded both of them, accompanying the cold blue-black cloud. A moment later, both he and Steve were deposited onto the ground – which did not look anything like SHIELD headquarters, or anywhere else.

Instead, they had landed in a decrepit-looking place that looked to be a former military base. Rumbling from behind Bucky caused him to turn, only to see a weapons storage bunker partially collapse. He realized that they were still within Camp Lehigh – only above ground now.

Zola – and everything in that bunker – was destroyed.

Zola was dead; by his hand—

Bucky suddenly had the shield in his left hand plucked out of his grasp. At nearly the same time, he was enveloped in a warm, comforting embrace. The shield clattered to the ground in a dull thud, as he felt Steve wrap his arms around him.

Words did not need to be exchanged between the two of them as Bucky immediately reciprocated the action. Steve’s presence was enough for him to remember the almost blind, but precise actions he had taken to toss the shield into key areas to destroy all of Zola—

“He’s dead,” Bucky whispered, feeling strangely and slightly giddy. “Zola—”

“He’s dead,” Steve’s murmured confirmation in his right ear was enough to settle the unusual giddiness.

Steve loosened his grip, and Bucky did so as well. Steve took a small step back, sliding his hands down Bucky’s arms to rest at his elbows. Those blue-green eyes of Steve’s held nothing but acceptance in them, as they stood slightly apart for a few seconds. Then, Steve leaned forward slightly to touch their foreheads together.

“Thank you, Steve,” Bucky stated, closing his eyes ever so briefly as the memories of what Zola had done to him began to fade.

He felt Steve move his left hand up and curl it on the back of his neck and head. Mental exhaustion was sweeping through Bucky. The warmth from Steve’s soft, caressing touch caused him to lean forward until he was resting his forehead against Steve’s chest.

Bucky stood like that for what felt like a few long minutes. Even the gentle pressure of Steve’s lips upon the crown of his head didn’t move him, as he took slow, deep breaths.

Zola was dead. Even though this particular Zola was not his reality’s captor, torturer, and violator, he couldn’t help but feel an enormous sense of relief.

He slowly came back to himself – to the mission – and to what else they needed to do. “Let’s finish this, Steve,” he said after a few moments, somewhat reluctantly drawing himself up and away from Steve.

In response, he saw Steve silently nod, before seeing him take the half-mask and glasses out of a compartment casing. Bucky shook his head – the Winter Soldier’s initial disguise was not needed by him anymore. There was no more he needed to hide from this world – from HYDRA.

Steve returned the accessories back to where they had been stored, and picked up his shield. Slinging it over his back, Bucky then saw him raise his left hand up. The blue stone was glowing – ready to transport them.

A single nod was all he needed to give Steve, before they were whisked away in a blindingly cold cloud of blue-black. They landed within the World Council chambers on the top floor of the Triskelion—

“What the fuck—”

“Halt!”

Bucky whirled to his left, just as Steve tossed the shield from their right. The shield hit the guard at the far end of the Council chambers, just as Bucky’s metal arm connected with the guard to their immediate left. Both fell and crumpled to the floor before they could send an alert.

As Steve retrieved and holstered his shield, Bucky crouched down and plucked the comm device from the guard’s ears. He hooked it onto his left ear, and made sure that the mute capability was enabled. While more advanced-looking and smaller than what he worked with at Brooklyn, the basics were still there.

“Steve,” he heard Natasha say, as he stood up and glanced over to see Natasha making her way to the lone console-like area near the glass panels that separated this room from what looked like an office.

“You and James will need to stand at those two panels over there when I give the signal. Project both Fury and Pierce onto yourselves, and make sure you use Fury’s blind eye to unlock the files,” Natasha continued to say as she began to type on the console.

“Why not his good eye?” Steve questioned.

“Fail safe,” was all Natasha answered before a rather familiar voice piped through above them.

“Oh good, you’re in,” Tony’s disembodied voice stated. “Great – let me take over some things—”

“Let Natasha do her work in separating HYDRA files from SHIELD, Tony,” Steve ordered. “I need you to specifically begin searching for any and all data about the Winter Soldier and his current location. We’ll also need collation of all Red Room bases—”

“Tell the local AI system to do that, Rogers,” Tony cut in. “I’m encountering some fairly nasty firewalls, tracers, and the like with your first request.”

“All right...” Steve said, stepping up to a glass panel that was suddenly filled with what looked like typing keys – keyboard, as he had learned – and other things that looked almost scientifically fantastical.

“SHIELD knows we’re in their systems,” Natasha spoke up after a few seconds. “James, any chatter over the com?”

Bucky glanced down at the communications device he held in his left hand, before carefully turning the dial on it with his right hand fingers. He listened carefully through each frequency on the device before setting it back to its original frequency.

“Not yet,” he answered.

“Monitor, and let us know the minute they squawk,” Natasha ordered.

“Wish I could do more than just listen,” Bucky said, looking at both concentrated looks on his friends’ faces.

“We got this, Buck,” Steve said.

“Shouldn’t take too long,” Natasha stated.

“Search parameters: Red Room, mental conditioning, psychological evaluation, physiological experimentation. Append with criteria of locale: Russia, and the former Soviet Union from the 1917 revolutions until December 26th, 1991,” Steve then stated, seemingly talking directly at the panel.

Bucky saw what looked like a numerical percentage to 100 slowly, but steadily rising, projected to Steve’s right. As he watched it tick up, he gently dialed the comm device through its various frequencies again. There was still nothing over the frequencies to indicate a physical attack.

“Only those in Russia or the Soviet Union?” Natasha questioned.

“Start small, strike hard,” Steve answered. “We know two locales – that silo in Siberia, and the one off Alaska. The Avengers will be able to take care of the rest—”

“Rogers, the Winter Soldier is not in DC – not where he was confirmed to have undergone conditioning during the 2014 attack,” Tony’s voice cut into the conversation.

“Shit,” Bucky heard Steve softly, and very uncharacteristically curse.

“They’re definitely onto me—” Tony began.

“Package up what you have, now,” Natasha ordered.

Worry crept into Bucky as he saw Steve’s startled, yet somewhat desperate look up at Natasha. But Steve did not countermand that order, as Tony’s confirmation curtly spat through wherever the speakers were situated in this chamber.

“We don’t have—” Natasha began.

“Time. I know,” Steve said. Bucky could hear the defeat in Steve’s tone.

Before he could step forward and tell Steve that it was all right that they didn’t have the exact location of his counterpart in this timeline, a disembodied voice stated, “Files found.”

Bucky glanced at the percentage on the glass panel on Steve’s right. It was at 100, and Steve manipulated a few things with his fingertips pressed against the glass.

“You boys are up,” Natasha stated a few minutes later.

As Steve silently directed Bucky to stand in front of a glass panel, Bucky once again, listened to the various frequencies over the comm device. Then he stepped up to the panel.

What looked like a circular, semi-transparent dial popped up in front of him. Natasha disappeared out of the corner of his eyes. He saw Steve raise his left hand for a brief moment, before something seemingly shimmered over him.

Steve’s visage changed to that of what he remembered SHIELD Directory Fury to look like. Bucky could only assume that Alexander Pierce’s visage was draped over himself.

“Lean in, and look directly at the circular thing, Bucky,” Steve said – definitely not sounding like Fury at all.

Bucky complied, and a moment later, he saw something begin to blink at Natasha’s console. As he stepped back, the glamour of Steve looking like Fury disappeared. A second later, Steve opened his left hand, and Natasha appeared at the console again.

There was a slight upwards quirk of her lips as she typed in a few things, before murmuring, “Oh… it’s trending on Twitter… again. And it looks like a lot of people are trying to correlate HYDRA causing the attack on New York…”

“Search parameter: Wolf Spider. Append with possible initials of ‘WS’, excluding references to Winter Soldier. English and Russian languages.”

Bucky glanced over sharply, eyes widening slightly. Steve continued to type on the projected keyboard, while manipulating a few things. Bucky caught Natasha’s surprised look as well, before noticing that the ‘search’ numerical value looked like it was rising at a fair pace towards 100.

[Searching… ‘Wolf Spider’ and ‘WS’…]

“If this Wolf Spider exists,” Steve began, pausing for a moment before looking left and right at both him and Natasha, “and is a part of the Soviet-HYDRA suite of joint programs, then it’s fair to say that the candidate may have existed at one point.”

“Very few files about the Black Widows or Winter Soldier programs were ever digitized, Steve,” Natasha cautioned. “That file I gave you from my contacts in Kiev constituted the bulk of what little could be found.”

“And we decrypted and found many of the old Red Room facilities via what was dumped onto the internet, Nat. Just like how Zemo’s search led him to the Siberian silo,” Steve stated. “You said so yourself that it looked like some bean counter in the seventies decided to begin populating information on ARPANET to make it easier for HYDRA operatives to secretly communicate with each other.”

Bucky was a little confused at what Steve was talking about, but it seemed that Natasha understood what Steve said. Yet, based on the words alone, it sounded as if information was being secretly, and almost instantaneously shared between people. Considering the extent of what he knew of HYDRA’s hold in 2012, and what he was witnessing at the moment – the world was connected in ways that he found more fantastically imagined, than real.

“Ghost Rider knows who Wolf Spider is,” Bucky quietly spoke up.

“Yes, and he’s from a completely different reality than ours,” Natasha spoke up, a touch of anger in her tone.

“Wasn’t going to trade anyways, Natalia,” he answered. “It’s a price—”

Squawks over the comm system that he had filched from the knocked-out guard diverted his attention for a brief moment. “They just called for STRIKE Alpha and Bravo to storm this place,” he told the two. “ETA five minutes.”

“Which means, they’ll be here in three,” Natasha began.

“Files found,” the same disembodied voice spoke up.

Bucky saw Steve immediately shift his attention over to where the projection was showing a pictorial depiction of a file. The numbers had disappeared.

Steve immediately opened it, and ran his eyes over the first piece of information before splaying his left fingers out to seemingly discard it. The second file was opened, and Bucky saw him immediately take a step back.

“Oh, God,” Steve whispered in horror.

Bucky stepped around, and only got two steps closer to Steve before he saw what was being displayed. It was a file, similar to what he saw in Steve’s memories of the Winter Soldier folder that Natasha had given Steve. Except that this file was labeled in Russian with [Project 02: Wolf Spider].

The photograph within the file was that of Michael Carter.

~*~*~*~


	19. Pretender – Part 5 – 2012

**Chapter 14: Pretender – Part 5 – 2012**

“No,” Bucky denied, voice cracking with despair.

He saw Steve reach out and hesitatingly swipe the photograph to the side, revealing further contents of the file. His eyes read through the notes, meticulously taken by someone, but Bucky couldn’t – wouldn’t – refused to – understand all that was written.

“They gave him the super-soldier formula in 1991,” Natasha breathed, eyes wide with horror and surprise. She slid the file closer to where she was, and scanned it intently.

“He… they grafted Carter’s face with another, after a mission in Bucharest. His fellow operatives noticed that SHIELD Director Margaret Carter – confirmed to have been within the city – may have recognized him prior to executing the mission…” Natasha continued, but trailed off into silence.

“But I...” Bucky began, not wanting to believe what he was hearing was true. “I said those code words to him… I said it… and he didn’t change—”

He could feel the heavy gaze of Natasha on him. Bucky couldn’t even finish his denial as Steve briefly drew up the two photographs of Michael – one showing his enlistment photograph, the other after he had apparently got his face replaced with another person’s skin.

“Aliased as Michael Walker,” Steve murmured, horrified as well. “Kept on periodic ice. One of the five Winter Soldiers… dear God—”

“Package it up, Nat,” Steve abruptly stated, dropping his hand from the glass pane. “Package it up with the Winter Soldier location and Red Room files – and get them to Tony.”

Steve’s hard tone was enough to shake Bucky out of his brief fugue. Bucky checked the time, “Ninety seconds.” He could hear the faint pounding of boots coming up the stairs, and the faint beating of helicopter rotors in the distance.

Steve glanced over at him, but didn’t say a word, even though sympathy and remorse were shining through his eyes.

At nearly the same time, Natasha said, “Package sent. Tony’s algorithm is already doing its erasure work. Let’s go.”

“Later,” Bucky somehow managed to say, as he stepped up next to Steve. “We’ll… later.”

A split second later, the sensation of an ice-cold blast of air surrounded him. SHIELD Headquarters, the glass panes, and the file that held the identity of the Soviet asset code-named Wolf Spider, disappeared.

The laboratory replaced his vision, and Bucky stumbled ever so slightly out of the chilling grasp of the Tesseract. Tony himself was at the panels, and there was a small cube-like container sitting on the table next to the inventor.

“Shit, Rogers,” Bucky heard Tony begin, as the inventor glanced back at the three of them, eyes wide with alarm. “ _He_ fucking knows about the stones, their locations—”

“We don’t know _**i**_ _ **f**_ he is still the Wolf Spider—” Steve began, going over to where Tony was standing.

“Sit rep, Stark,” Natasha ordered, going over to the table next to Tony and brought up a few screens on the glass panels situated there.

“Shit’s on fire,” Tony sarcastically spat out, as Steve went over to where Natasha was and manipulated a few screens. “What else is new.”

“Tony,” Steve began, exasperated.

“Pierce is having the time of his life, trying to explain what the hell happened,” Tony stated, glaring at Steve. “Fury’s squabbling on an encrypted channel that I can’t break into yet, but I can bet that it’s the World Council. Happy?”

It was also then, that Bucky noticed that their ‘guest’ was awake, and silently watching the exchange. He tried to shove all thoughts about the identity of the Wolf Spider to the back of his thoughts – he needed to concentrate on the here and now.

Focusing on Steve’s 2012 counterpart was not helping much, but it was better than having his thoughts turn circular. In the brief moment that he observed Steve’s counterpart, he saw mistrust, alarm, confusion, puzzlement, and finally a sliver of possible understanding dawn across 2012-Steve’s face.

“Hey,” Bucky called out to the three. He ignored the startled yet burst of confused happiness that appeared on 2012-Steve’s face, attention drawn to him. “Your other self is awake, Steve.”

That stopped the three cold, as Steve immediately turned and approached. Bucky didn’t move towards 2012-Steve, but carefully watched him as Steve’s counterpart warily glanced at Steve himself.

“Not… Loki.” he heard Steve’s counterpart state.

“Not Loki,” Steve confirmed, crouching before his counterpart. “Sorry about what I did earlier,” Steve continued to say after a moment.

Bucky caught Tony’s exaggerated rolling of his eyes at Steve’s apology to his 2012 self, as Steve then said, “But I needed to borrow this—” Steve uncurled his left hand to show the glowing yellow stone “—to save my reality, my timeline.”

“Timeline? Reality?” 2012-Steve questioned, looking quite confused.

“Thanos, the guy behind Loki, attacked us again,” Steve answered, deciding to sit down instead of remain crouched before his counterpart. “2018. He collected all of the Infinity Stones. I’d ask Thor about them, when you get time to do so. He knows a little about the stones.”

“This stone here—” Steve continued, gently hefting the stone up and down for a brief moment “—was in Loki’s scepter. It’s the Mind Stone. That cube, the Tesseract, it’s the Space Stone. I don’t have a lot of time to explain any further, but suffice to say, the Avengers need to try to find some way to destroy at least one of the stones. It’s what Thanos is looking for and collecting – six of them. He…”

Steve paused for a moment. “He killed trillions all over the galaxy with the six stones in 2018. It took us five years to figure out a plan to get everyone we lost, back. Which is why we needed this stone.”

“Everyone you lost…” Steve’s counterpart began, then craned his neck towards Bucky.

As much as Bucky could see the conflicting despair and hope within 2012-Steve’s eyes, he shook his head. “I’m not from your timeline or reality,” Bucky stated.

“Bucky is alive,” Steve firmly stated, drawing his counterpart’s attention back onto him.

Bucky glanced up to see Natasha toss a small rectangular object at him. He caught it, but it didn’t look like much to him – all plastic and metal. However, he understood enough that it was something that he should give to 2012-Steve.

Crouching down for a brief moment, Bucky placed the object next to 2012-Steve, just as Steve himself said, “Your reality, your timeline’s Bucky is alive.” Steve gestured towards the object with his right hand, saying, “Everything that we could find is in that USB drive. We don’t know where he currently is, but you’ll have to move fast to get him out of HYDRA’s hands—”

“HYDRA,” 2012-Steve’s counterpart half-growled the word, before a disgusted look briefly appeared on his face.

“I can provide assistance in the decryption of the files, Captain Rogers…erm, I suppose, this reality’s Captain Rogers, then,” the disembodied voice of JARVIS stated.

“Nice of you to offer that assistance JARVIS, but I’m still not releasing you from Zephyr Protocol just yet,” Tony quipped from where he was still standing – still watching the multiple screens.

There was no answer from JARVIS, but both Steve and his counterpart seemed to ignore Tony’s statement for the moment. Bucky watched as Steve curled his left hand close again, before opening it – the Mind Stone was no longer in his hand.

Steve then slowly drew his shield forward, carefully keeping an eye on his counterpart. There was wariness reflected in both of their eyes, but Bucky’s instincts were not flaring up to anticipate an attack from Steve’s counterpart. Instead, Steve then broke both titanium cuffs with ease, with two swift strikes from his edge of his shield.

As soon as Steve sheathed his shield, he helped his counterpart up. The remnants of the cuffs clattered to the floor. Steve’s counterpart had also swiped up the USB drive with his free hand, and shoved it into one of his belt’s compartments.

“We’re good?” Steve asked, as Bucky saw Steve’s counterpart look over at where Natasha and Tony were.

Natasha had briefly stopped what she was doing, and gave a rather almost flirty wave of her hand. Despite the situation, Bucky found that slightly amusing, especially the confused look that appeared on 2012-Steve’s face. Even more amusing was Steve’s rather exasperated look.

“Nat…” Steve began.

Steve’s counterpart’s eyes then landed on Bucky, lingering over him with a rather thoughtful look, before returning to Steve. “Yeah,” Steve’s counterpart answered. “We’re good.”

Steve curtly nodded, before going over to where the palm-sized cube was sitting. Bucky saw him swipe it off the table. “This ready, Tony?” Steve asked, glancing towards Tony for a brief moment.

“Yeah,” Tony answered.

“They’re not the Agent Romanov or Tony Stark of my reality or timeline, correct?” 2012-Steve asked out loud.

“Yeah,” Bucky answered.

Like Steve, he was not going to elaborate – and now he understood why Steve had been and still was, incredibly reluctant to talk about what happened to him. He could see just how much of a mess things were rapidly becoming, even without the notification to the world about HYDRA from within SHIELD.

The faster they removed themselves from here, the better he felt.

“All right—” Steve began, approaching – just as the door to the laboratory swished open—

“Shit, what the hell?!”

Bucky immediately raised his metal arm and swiftly blocked the five rapid gunshots that had been directed at him. Yet, he dared not pull out his pistol to return fire.

“Romanov! Hold your fire!” 2012-Steve ordered, immediately stepping into Bucky’s direct line of sight before Steve could get there.

The man Bucky recognized as Clint Barton had been the one to say that exclamation, but Natasha – 2012-Natasha – had been the one to immediately leap into action without a sound. He had seen her move as a Widow did in ambush – no hesitation and fear.

“Get out of the way, Rogers,” 2012-Natasha – Romanov, Bucky mentally termed her – growled, stepping to the side. 2012-Steve took the same route, continuing to block her line of sight. “That’s the Winter Soldier—”

“Oh, fucking hell,” Barton muttered, briefly glancing over at him.

The archer had drawn his bow back, with a strangely-tipped arrow pointed directly at Steve, Natasha, and Tony. Steve had his arms held up slightly, but the compartment was still firmly in his hand. Natasha and Tony were standing by the consoles, warily watching the rest of them.

“They’re friendlies,” Bucky heard 2012-Steve calmly state, continuing to partially hold his hands up in a slightly placating manner towards Romanov. “That—” 2012-Steve jerked a thumb back at Bucky “—is Bucky Barnes, and that guy over there—” 2012-Steve pointed with his right finger “—is myself, except from a different reality.”

“Well, the four of us are all from a different time and reality,” Tony suddenly spoke up.

A sudden image – that of Bucky himself, except it looked to be an external photograph of himself within a cryogenic tube – popped up next to 2012-Steve. Bucky couldn’t help but feel a chill crawl down his spine, as he stared at the image.

“That’s your Winter Soldier, Romanov,” Tony stated. “Your reality’s Winter Soldier. Your reality’s James Barnes, Capsicle. That one over there—” Tony jerked his chin towards Bucky “—doesn’t have his brain scrambled into bits and pieces. So fuck off, all of you, and let us finish our mission here.”

“Language!” 2012-Steve admonished.

It was rather callous and extremely rude, but it got the point across bluntly enough to jolt everyone out of their shock. It seemed that it was also incredibly uncharacteristic of Tony to say such as thing, as Bucky saw every single person in the room, except for him, stare at Tony in surprise.

“HYDRA’s falling, and we’re almost done here. We’ll be out of your hair soon,” Tony stated, giving them all an annoyed look before turning back to work on whatever he was doing.

The image of Bucky himself also disappeared. Romanov did not lower her gun yet, but Bucky could see that she was considering Tony’s uncharacteristic words and the situation. It was also then, that he realized just how wide of a gulf there was, in the mixing of personalities within the Avengers.

They had been thrown together – a volatile mixture. Even though the fire had forged them together, there were still mistrust and uncertainty within them. Taking down HYDRA at this very moment added to that uncertainty.

“You weren’t answering your comm, Cap,” Barton stated, breaking the silence. “Meltdown’s happening out there, and all that—”

As the archer lowered his bow and sheathed his arrow, it was Steve who spoke up, saying, “That’s my fault. It was the only way I could induce cognitive re-calibration.”

Bucky saw Barton blink a few times in surprise, before saying, “You got whammied by… what… another one of your self, Cap? How the hell did that happen?”

Steve’s counterpart didn’t answer, but Bucky could reasonably assume that there was a frown or something to that nature across his face. It was what he imagined Steve’s expression to be, had that question been directed at him.

“Romanov,” 2012-Steve answered instead, seemingly ignoring Barton’s question for a moment.

Romanov still had her gun up, but Bucky was done waiting for her to stand down. He stepped out, faster than what 2012-Steve could react to and headed over to where Natasha – the Natasha Romanov he knew – was standing.

“Do you have a physical copy of the files on the Wolf Spider?” he quietly asked, as he heard the near-silent click of Romanov safing her gun.

The tension within the laboratory was ebbing as he heard Natasha’s counterpart reluctantly holster her weapon, just as Natasha herself said, “Yes.”

Bucky saw her withdraw a small folder from underneath a silvery-plate of sorts, and slid it over to him. He picked it up and discreetly stuffed the file between the armored vest and shirt he wore.

“James—” Natasha quietly began.

“I know,” he answered. “He might not be the Wolf Spider anymore.”

“If he is...” she said, but trailed off, looking uncharacteristically uncertain.

“We’ll cross that bridge, if the time comes,” he answered.

He drew upon the somewhat comforting words that Steve had said before – of Steve adhering to Philips’ request to reveal himself after this entire Infinity Stone thing was complete. It was not much, but at the moment, he could not – did not want to – think about the possibility of Michael continuing to be the Wolf Spider.

“How did you guys find me, anyways?” 2012-Steve’s question drew both of them out of their private conversation. Bucky glanced over to see that Steve’s counterpart had directed his question towards the two SHIELD agents.

Romanov remained silent, as Barton scratched the back of his head before saying, “SHIELD put a tracker in your uniform, Cap.”

“What?” Steve’s counterpart questioned, looking affronted.

At nearly the same time, Romanov had glared at Barton, as Barton himself shrugged at Romanov. “What, Nat? You know I hate that sort of shit.”

“You can talk it over with Fury later,” Steve interrupted before his counterpart could continue to question the need for a rather invasive intrusion into his privacy. “Here.”

Bucky saw Steve open up the palm-sized compartment before tipping the yellow stone out of his left hand. He couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief that another stone was no longer within Steve’s arsenal. He still thought it was incredibly reckless of his best friend using the stones, knowing just how dangerous they were – much less using _two_ stones at once.

“Wait,” Romanov began, just as Steve snapped the compartment close. “Is that—”

“Stone within the scepter,” Steve stated, handing the compartment over to his counterpart. “Either hide it somewhere where Thanos can’t find it, or destroy it,” Steve stated to his counterpart.

“2018?” Steve’s counterpart asked, holding the compartment in his hand for a brief moment before placing it in a compartment around his waist belt.

“2018,” Steve confirmed, nodding once. “But with Loki and the Tesseract gone, I don’t know how accelerated, or different your reality and timeline will be. With luck, perhaps Loki will lead Thanos on a chase throughout the galaxy for the Tesseract – buy the galaxy some time to prepare.”

“Loki?” Romanov questioned.

“There’s **an** **other** invasion coming?” Barton asked at nearly the same time, looking worried.

“I’ve been asked by Sir to brief the three of you and the other Avengers, on what happened to Captain Rogers, Agent Romanov, and Sir’s reality and timeline,” the disembodied voice of JARVIS stated.

“But not his,” Romanov immediately pointed out, gesturing towards Bucky with her chin.

“Still not from your reality or timeline, Agent,” Bucky answered, giving her a cool look, crossing his arms across his chest.

He would have substituted ‘Agent’ for ‘doll’ or something of that nature, but at this moment, he could tell that she still considered him an enormous threat. It was only by virtue of being partially blocked by Barton and Steve’s counterpart, that Romanov did not attack. Given what he knew of her fighting capabilities, he was not going to attempt anything – physical or verbal – that could potentially cause her to disregard those who stood in front of her, and attack.

Fracturing the fledgling Avengers was not something he wanted to be a part of – again. Even though he had not been the particular iteration of himself to do so in Steve’s timeline, he still felt a strange ghost of a guilt for what his counterpart had done.

“All right, we’re done here,” Steve stepped physically into the line of sight between Bucky and Romanov. “Nat, Tony, we’re done. We’re leaving. You too, Bucky.”

Bucky wordlessly pushed off the console he had been leaning against, and made his way over to where Tony was already situated. Though they had not been close to the others, it seemed better if that when they left, they were physically farther away from those in the 2012 timeline.

“Nat,” Steve began, “come on—”

Bucky’s eyes were not the only ones to widen as he saw Steve stop in the middle of approaching, only to focus directly on Natasha. Steve’s friend was still at the console, but her face was etched in pure agony.

Blackened lichen – Bucky could not find any other word to describe it – rapidly sprouted all along her face, clothes – everywhere. Dark red blood was weeping from the sprouts—

“Steve, on your right—” Natasha rasped, then suddenly disappeared.

For all of his heightened sense of awareness and reaction time, Bucky hadn’t even turned half-way, much less draw forward his sniper rifle, when the enemy _struck_ . All Bucky saw was a grey, concrete block _plowing_ into Steve.

Steve’s name didn’t even get to leave his lips—

_Heartbeat—fire—fire—fire--_

“Avengers...no. You are not the stonewielder—” the thin, spindly creature that looked similar to a squid, began to say.

_Dodge, run two feet left—dive—fire—_

_Protect Steve—_

The squid-faced creature waved his long thin fingers, sending pelting, razor, sharp pieces of concrete and metal straight towards them—

“Stark! Where the hell are you? Thirty-third—!” Romanov shouted.

Pale, splotched creatures that possessed six leg-like arms and maws full of razor-sharp teeth appeared all around them—

_Knife—claws—flesh between armors—stab up, away —_

_Their blood burns—f ire—two degrees right—fire—fire--_

“Jesus fucking Christ—” Barton’s exclamation was roughly cut short.

_Close quarter—stab out, stab in— acidic blood— dodge— pistol—fire—_

_Protect Steve—_

_High ground—roll—dodge— kick—roll— exploding arrow—_

_Three degrees roundabout—f ire—fire—fire—fire—fire—fire—fire—empty—_

_Protect Steve—_

The Winter Soldier kicked with all of his might at the incoming creatures. Their acidic blood burned across and into his clothes and skin. Yet, they still swarmed, even after he unleashed nearly all clips of the bullets he had for his pistols.

Every single time he tried to withdraw his sniper rifle, either the squid-faced creature commanded slabs of concrete or remnants of tables to shield, or the creatures sought him out. The Winter Soldier was forced to fight close-quarters, and dangerously so with others who were being slowly overwhelmed—

_Stab in—in—in—acid biting—dodge—shield arcing—now!—_

For one moment, the forefront most of the ravenous creatures were briefly knocked back by the swift arching crash of the silvery red-white-blue shield. The Winter Soldier immediately snapped his sniper rifle forward, pressed his eye into the scope and sighted—

_Heartbeat—fire—fire—fire—_

The Winter Soldier suddenly gasped, as something tightened around his neck. It happened so fast that he saw a burst of black stars across his eyes, before he felt himself being roughly lifted off the floor. He was unable to move—

“You dare to attempt to **kill** me from afar with such a pathetic weapon?”

He gasped, metal hand going for the hand that grasped his neck, but feeling absolutely nothing physical. His eyes riveted towards the squid-faced creature, who was standing beyond the laboratory, right arm outstretched, and hand curled—

“Let… him...go—” the Winter Soldier heard Steve’s counterpart gasp, fighting the bonds.

Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw the other three also bound by invisible bonds, slowly choking from the lack of air. The creatures were tauntingly snapping up at them, as they hung in the air like bait above a pit of wild beasts.

The Winter Soldier’s eyes returned to the squid-faced creature, who had his three bullets shot from his sniper rifle slowly turning back _towards_ them—

_No—!_

Almost impossibly, the three bullets that the Winter Soldier had shot at the squid-faced enemy were intercepted by a flash of silver carrying a red-white-blue streak. They ricocheted, and fell to the ground, just as the shield arced and bounced back, only to land—

“Let them go **now** , Ebony Maw,” the Winter Soldier heard Steve softly growl in anger.

Steve had stumbled further up, covered in a thick layer of concrete dust and debris, but there was something shimmering and overtaking him under all of that. The Winter Soldier saw him snatch the shield out of the air, while taking another two steps forward – eyes focused directly on the squid-faced creature.

“Your powers are inconsequential compared to mine, stonewielder—”

The creature’s taunt was cut short when something slammed into it from behind, causing it to fall flat onto the ground. Dropped to the ground, the Winter Soldier immediately lashed out, combat blade flying into his left hand. He killed the two creatures that surrounded him with a whirling strike.

Just as he snapped up and out of the strike, he saw a hammer of all things, land in Steve’s hand. The creatures – even the squid-faced enemy – all paused for a single moment. The three fighting near the two of them – Romanov, Barton, and Steve’s counterpart – had also warily paused.

“Is that Thor’s—?” Barton began, staring at the hammer.

“Last chance. Surrender and go back into the stone, Maw,” Steve evenly stated, tightening his grip on the hammer’s handle.

The Winter Soldier warily brought up his sniper rifle at the squid-faced creature, who was slowly getting back up onto its feet. He didn’t know how or where Steve had summoned the hammer, but his fogged memories told him that he had seen it before – when he had been held captive and was freed. There had also been a brief instant he had seen it within the facility.

Defiance shone in the squid-faced creature’s eyes. A gust of wind, seemingly blasting from the hammer, cleared most of the debris that covered Steve – revealing the full vibranium uniform.

The Winter Soldier could _feel_ a hair-raising crackle in the air.

Not a split second later, a thunderous crackle, and bolt of lightning crashed directly into the squid-faced enemy. He only had a brief moment of _seeing_ lighting crawl through and across Steve’s armor, before Steve threw his shield in an arc, and the hammer directly at the lightning-struck creature.

As soon as the blue-black cloud enveloped Steve, the Winter Soldier sprang into action. He dodged and rolled up, just as Steve’s shield and Barton’s explosive arrows littered the area, killing several creatures around them. Sprinting up a broken beam towards the highest point he could find, the Winter Soldier then turned, brought up his sniper rifle and pressed the scope to his eye—

Steve had teleported behind the squid-faced enemy, latched onto him from behind, and wrapped the hammer and his arm around the enemy’s neck. Rivulets of electricity were pouring into the squid-faced creature, channeled by the hammer—

“Bucky, now!”

_Breathe—pause—heartbeat—fire._

One shot, combined with the streams of lightning being driven into the creature to disrupt its powers, was enough to kill the creature – permanently. The Winter Soldier only needed one precise shot through the head—and watched as Steve wrenched his head as far and away from the blood spray as possible.

The creature toppled over, just as Steve leapt off. The Winter Soldier didn’t even need to unsheathe the single knife he had left, nor bring up his rifle to block the last of the razor-toothed creatures. Romanov’s definitive shot did the job, as the dead creature slid to a halt near his feet.

Slinging his sniper rifle over his shoulder, the Winter Soldier dropped down to the floor. The hammer flew from Steve’s hand, just as he heard the clamor of more arriving to respond to the situation – all of them too late, as all the enemy were dead.

“No enemy!” the voice of the Hulk bellowed.

“What the hell—” Stark began.

“Steven Rogers, who is that, that wields Mjolnir with familiarity—” Thor also said at nearly the same time.

The Winter Soldier ignored all of them as he strode across the debris-covered floor, intent on rendezvousing with Steve. Even as covered in liberally in the black blood of the squid-faced creature, he could still see that Steve was too pale, too sweaty—

And at once, Bucky snapped out of the cold, calculating Winter Soldier persona as pure dread and worry crept up his stomach. Steve didn’t allow him to voice his concern, as he saw him suddenly disappear into the time-jump armor.

They had overstayed their welcome.

Steve wrapping his time-jump armor was his silent way of saying that they _needed_ to get back to their place in time now. That they could not, and would not remain to brief the rest of the Avengers.

As much as Bucky wanted to disobey that order, to make Steve rest after that tremendously overwhelming battle, he did not. Just as he reached Steve, he too, activated his time-jump armor.

The chaos, bewildered faces of the Avengers, and clamor of 2012 New York were suddenly silenced for a blessed instance. A split second later, both Bucky’s vision and hearing were replaced by the more familiar sights and sounds of 1948 New York – specifically within the SSR’s Brooklyn facility.

Peggy’s worried expression, greeted his sight. Fear still saturated the air, and was evident in the eyes of the rest of those gathered. Bucky remembered how exactly he had entered the room, carrying the Winter Soldier persona around him. Now, he returned with it still within him, but mastered and forged into a weapon.

As both of their time-jump armors retracted, Bucky couldn’t help but admonish, “Steve—”

He never got to finish his chiding, as Steve abruptly wobbled for a moment before he collapsed. Bucky lunged forward and caught him in his arms, but it was too late – Steve began to cough up blood.

~*~*~*~


	20. Stasis – Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Theme: '[Stasis](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5y_rcdVRov0)' by Ninja Tracks.

**Chapter 15 : Stasis – Part 1**

_December 31_ _st_ _, 1948…_

– _1_ _2_ _:_ _05_ _–_

_In the timeline I came from, Bucky is the Winter Soldier._

The solemnly stated words still chilled Peggy. Bucky’s appearance as the Winter Soldier – menacing, frightening, and exuding a coldly murderous intent – hammered home the words. Of a timeline that was _**changed**_.

And it made Peggy realize that Steve had not just went back in time to spend his life with her. He had primarily done so to _free_ Bucky, to save him from being what she realized had been the Soviet’s greatest asset in Steve’s timeline.

Yet, when Steve and Bucky popped back into existence, the frightening demeanor that Bucky carried was completely gone. Their time-jump armors retracted, revealing the fact that they had been in a fight – battle more like it. Peggy stepped forward—

Steve suddenly collapsed, and began to cough up blood.

Peggy bit back the cry that threatened to emerge from her lips as she rushed over. Before she could get within two steps of the platform, an alarm began to sound.

“Radiation alarm!” David cried out, before silencing it. “Stay back!”

Peggy stopped where she was, partially held back by Michael, who was also looking towards the two on the platform in alarm. David had hurried over to pick up a piece of equipment, as Howard went over to shut every else around the device, down.

“He’s burning up!” Bucky shouted, when the armor on Steve retracted back into the bangle.

David came over and carefully panned the device – Geiger counter, Peggy recognized – over the two. “Shit, it’s that thing on his wrist—” the engineer began.

Realization as to what may have happened dawned upon Peggy. David’s warning about acute radiation from the stones was also at the forefront of her thoughts. She saw Bucky yank the bangle off of Steve, yelping in pain, and violently tossed it away—

“—and you, Bucky—” David continued.

“Showers, now!” Peggy ordered. “Get under the cold spray, and stay there,” she said. After David had informed her of the potential consequences of what the stones could do, she had discussed with him about possible mitigation efforts – should the worse happen.

Bucky didn’t need to be told twice, as he yanked his own bangle off and tossed it onto the table. Bucky then lifted Steve up, grunting with the effort as he tried not to further jostle him, while Steve continued to cough out blood. Without the armor covering Steve, Peggy could see lesions, burns, and openly weeping wounds crawling across Steve’s skin and under his clothing.

She could see the similar types of wounds and bleeding beginning to form on Bucky’s flesh-and-blood arm, as Bucky held Steve close to him. Pain was etched on his face, and Bucky was dripping with sweat, but there was desperation and determination to not let Steve die, written in his eyes.

Peggy followed and snatched up the nearest tin pail she could find. She ordered the others, “Buckets, ice, snow – whatever cold thing you can find and bring. We need to rapidly cool both of them.”

“I’ll get the first aid kit, and see if there’s anything else we have for burns,” David stated. “Whatever any of you do – _do not_ touch either of them yet. They might have lingering traces of radiation upon them.”

As much as Peggy did not want to separate herself from where Bucky was carrying Steve to – the locker room’s showers – she forced herself to do so. Bursting out into front of the closed studio, her appearance startled Lorraine.

“Steve—” Peggy began, but found that she could not say it.

“What do you need me to do, Peggy?” Lorraine’s firm, strong voice, along with her steady hands upon her arms, brought Peggy back to the present.

“Ice, snow – anything cooling,” Peggy found her voice and wits again. “Radiation overdose.”

“Come on,” Lorraine said, snatching up what looked to be a prop tin fire bucket – but served as well as anything else that was container-like.

Peggy followed Lorraine out of the studio front, and into the snow storm. Even though it was incredibly cold, Peggy didn’t care.

Both she and Lorraine dug their pails into the sidewalk, and scooped up as much snow as possible. Howard and Michael joined them a minute later. The four of them reentered the studio and into the facility itself.

The buckets were heavy, as the snow was already beginning to melt within, but the lockers were close. David joined them, coming from the area where the first-aid kit was stored. Yet, it didn’t look as if he had found anything else that would help.

The clatter of the door between the studio front and the facility itself opening, startled not only Peggy but everyone else. Peggy’s eyes widened in alarm and surprise, as she saw Daniel enter with a confused but concerned look on his face—

“Daniel—” Peggy began, dismay etched upon her face.

“Go, Peggy!” Michael said, pushing her towards the locker room, while simultaneously handing his bucket over to David. “I’ll take care of Sousa!”

She watched as her brother took Daniel by the shoulder, turning him none-too-gently around. As torn as she was, the weight of the bucket in her hands was an acute reminder of what she needed to do.

Peggy turned and hurried back to the locker room, to Steve – to her husband – and prayed with all of her might that there was some mercy in the world to save him.

* * *

_Hours later…_

The bandages hitched and pulled at his skin, sending pain up and down his right arm. It was like and unlike what he remembered Zola’s experiments upon him, but Bucky endured it. He had to – in order to not worry David, who was slowly binding up his right hand and arm.

He kept his expression as impassive as he could, as he watched the layers of white bandages wrap around and around his forearm. His right hand and forearm were the only places where his serum-enhanced healing had not yet had time to recover from the severe dose of radiation induced by him yanking Steve’s bangle off and away. All other places where Steve’s irradiated body had touched him were already healing over.

Most of the radiation that he had been doused with had been severely tempered by the vibranium-weaved armor he wore. That was what David had theorized. Without Tony or Natasha present, he knew that they could only guess that Steve’s full vibranium armor had tempered an even larger dose of gamma radiation that should have killed Steve before they had returned from 2012.

Bucky had briefed them of what he knew about what may have caused Steve to receive what apparently should’ve been a lethal dose of radiation. He told them of Steve’s knowledge and statement about gamma radiation to him. He also told them about Steve separating Tony from being an active barrier, and absorbing more than the usual amount himself.

Peggy had then quietly spoken up, with concurrence from David, that they suspected using two stones in the aftermath of Cull Obsidian’s attack was also another instance. The repeated low-level radiation from just the stones themselves could have sent Steve’s serum-enhanced blood replenishment into an accelerated state, with occasional bursts pushing his body briefly to the limits.

Then, Bucky told them what Steve had done while using the hammer – wielding lightning of all things _through_ his armor and most likely, his body as well. Bucky suspected that that had been the catalyst for the overdose induced by using the Space Stone at the same time. The grim looks in both David and Howard’s eyes confirmed that suspicion.

The hammer – whatever it was – combined with repeated exposure to the stones, including using them in the middle of battle, had pushed Steve and his serum-enhanced body past the point of no return.

The doors to the lockers opened, causing Bucky to look up, and David to pause in his ministrations. He saw Michael enter, looking as if he had some news to pass on. Yet, Bucky had not missed the strange flash of jealousy that had briefly appeared on Michael’s face.

David was sitting close to Bucky, but there was nothing going on between him and the engineer except for medical assistance. Michael knew that. Bucky was not one to seek comfort in someone he had pushed away long ago, even though he knew that David still harbored some feelings towards him.

Yet, even as panicked as he had been – even as pain-filled he had been from his own exposure to the radiation – Bucky had kept a sharp eye on Michael. The folder – apparently sealed in a thin waterproof kind of technologically advanced bag before Natasha had given it to him – was sitting near his still-soaking wet armored vest.

David had tried to move it out of the way after scanning it with his Geiger counter, but had immediately pulled his hand away, seemingly shocked by it. The folder was not irradiated, but it was seemingly protected by something Bucky knew not what of. When Bucky had picked it up to move it away, he had encountered no resistance or shock of sorts.

“Jarvis just called in – says he and Lorraine are on their way back with a few bottles of saline. Sousa’s covering for Howard’s break into the SSR’s labs at Headquarters to see if they can find anything of use,” Michael stated.

Bucky nodded, and glanced down as David finished his ministrations and stood up. With his right hand bound up, Bucky reluctantly tucked it into the makeshift sling. It was more to prevent him from using his right hand than anything else.

He stood up. His still-healing wounds pulled under various patches of gauze taped over his skin to prevent his clothing from chafing against them. But the pain was mild, compared to his right hand and arm.

Bucky picked up the folder again with his left hand, and asked, “Any changes?”

“IV drip of saline seems to be holding back the advance for now,” Michael answered, as both Bucky and David followed him out of the lockers. “But there’s been no visible change from his current condition.”

Steve’s room was too short of a walk from the lockers. Michael knocked on the door, but there was no answer. A few moments later, he gently opened the door, revealing the despairing scene within the room.

Bucky felt utterly powerless as he took in the scene of Steve lying prone on his bed, nearly completely wrapped up in bandages. A blanket was pulled up to his chest. An IV drip was hung next to him. Were it not for the various personal items littered about the room, Bucky could have sworn it looked like a hospital room.

He could barely see Steve’s chest move up and down. It was only sign that Steve was still clinging onto life.

Peggy was sitting vigil by Steve’s left. She currently had her head pillowed on her arms, resting on the edge of the bed.

He turned away from the scene, as Michael entered, and leaned against the wall. As he heard Michael shuffle around the room – most likely looking for a spare blanket to drape over Peggy as she slept – Bucky stared up at the ceiling.

Tears pricked at the corner of his eyes. There was a heaviness in his heart gripping him. He was supposed to have been the one to protect Steve from his own recklessness. Forward and together until the end of the line – that was the promise made. The promise he was supposed to keep—

A gentle, briefly comforting hand landing and squeezing his shoulder caused Bucky to look down. He saw David nod at him, eyes silently conveying to not lose hope. David then let go and stepped to the side as Michael emerged, and silently closed the door behind him.

“Has anyone told Philips yet?” Bucky asked.

Both silently shook their heads. Bucky tiredly pushed himself off the wall, saying, “Keep me posted, please. I’ll brief Philips.”

He only took two steps away from them, when Michael spoke up, saying, “Bucky. You should get some rest. David and I can brief Philips—”

Bucky paused and glanced slightly back at them, shaking his head. “Neither of you were on that mission. Neither of you saw what happened. Steve only returned three stones – and then _this_ happened. Three fucking stones—”

“Bucky, it’s not your fa—” Michael began.

“Stop.”

Silence answered him. He had not meant to growl out that word in a harshly cold tone – akin to the razor sharp, focused thoughts he had while in the Winter Soldier persona. Yet the deep ache that tore at him – the guilt that he felt – the knowledge that he had had the chance to stop Steve from being utterly reckless—

The doors to the laboratory were only a few steps away. Bucky approached and entered. He heard the two follow him, still silent, but didn’t look back towards them.

Of the two, he would’ve thought that Michael would have understood just how it felt to watch, helpless to rescue or save a loved one. He remembered Michael telling him about what happened during the evacuation of Dunkirk – had even seen a visage of Michael’s best friend when the Time Stone had managed to escape confinement.

The area where he had thrown the bangle towards was cordoned off. Someone had hastily written a sign to warn others away, and placed it at the edge of the cordon. Yet, of all things that was covering the bangle, Bucky thought Steve’s shield should’ve never been used in that manner.

“Is it still irradiated?” he asked, hearing the two stop at the foot of the stairs, while he stood a little ways away at the edge of the cordon.

“Not since it was deactivated,” David answered. “Like your arm, along with your armor, as soon as the source was removed from proximity, the counts dropped.”

“No biological thing to leech off of,” he couldn’t help but mutter in a derisive tone.

“I wanted to put a lead container over it,” David continued to say, as Bucky heard both of them approach. Out of the corner of his eyes, Bucky saw David gesture to the time-travel device, saying, “But the cover that keeps the radiation from spilling out of the active prototype arc reactor is too heavy. I don’t know how Mr. Stark lifted it, even with the strange armor he wore.”

“The reactor is only active when in use, correct?” Bucky asked.

“Yes.”

That was all he needed to hear as he went over to the table and placed the folder down. Then, he made way over to the reactor and removed the covering with ease. Of course, he could hear the whir of his left arm rise to a fairly loud hum, but it wasn’t whining as it usually did when in combat.

Bucky took the cover over to where Steve’s shield was. Setting the cover down, he removed the shield to the side. The bangle was lying on the floor, looking completely harmless.

“There’s been no sign of Agent Romanov or Mr. Stark since the two of you returned,” Michael quietly stated.

He nodded once, acknowledging the information. After a few moments, he placed the lead covering over the bangle, and stood up. Taking the shield, he placed it on the other end of the table, where the hammer that he had seen Steve wield in 2012 sat.

Bucky had thought the hammer was just a simple, oversized hammer on September 24 th , 1946 – but he was wrong – so wrong – about that. That hammer, was another artifact of something that Steve needed to return.

For a moment, Bucky reached out and wrapped his left hand around the hammer’s shaft. It did not budge an inch as he tried to move it to the side. Mystified as to how Steve was able to wield the hammer, he let go and tore his eyes away from both the shield and hammer.

Bucky picked up the folder again—

“What’s in the folder?”

Bucky paused before he could begin to climb the stairs. Michael had asked that question. “Nothing that would help Steve right now,” he quietly said. “Just artifacts now, of a long war past. Let me know when Sousa and the others return, please.”

He climbed the remainder of the stairs without interruption. Nor did he hear the two follow him up. He made his way to his room, and as soon as the door closed, he leaned against it.

The tears were still at the corner of his eyes, but they were not falling. Instead, Bucky breathed in deeply, letting his despair, anger – at himself and at Steve – along with a whole host of worry and guilt wash over him.

He blinked and looked down at the folder in his left hand. Irony tugged at him, that suspecting Michael of being a turned agent – again – was slowly focusing him from worrying about Steve.

Going over to the table where he usually used it as his workbench to tweak or clean his sniper rifle, he placed the folder on it. Then, he went over and dragged the phone next to his nightstand over. He placed it on the table, and reached for another set of objects.

Where he slept used to be an office of sorts, vacated after the initial HYDRA attack on the facility in 1943. The phone had remained, and Bucky had found it surprising that the line it connected to had not been rewired or cut.

A new connection had been made to the SSR’s switchboard at Headquarters. Yet, he hadn’t used it at all since that connection had been made. Peggy usually made her conference and report calls using the front of the store – or squared herself away in Steve’s room to use that line.

Bucky had opened the folder in the mean time with a simple slide of his right hand down the seam of the folder. Dumping the contents out, he couldn’t help but frown as a thin, slightly raised rectangle – the size of his palm – that looked like a glass pane, but didn’t weigh anything like it at all, slid out. Accompanying it was a letter. Nothing else fell out of the folder.

Bucky gingerly slid the transparent rectangle to the side, and pulled the letter forward:

[ _First off, I didn’t do this for you, Sergeant Barnes. You may not have been the one to murder my father in cold blood, but there are just some things that I can’t let go of – no matter how many different iterations there are of you in countless of universes._

 _I’m doing this for my father in your reality. Because after all that you… your counterpart has done, and what I’ve seen whenever you’ve fought or sparred with Steve, you’re the only one I ironically trust to keep my father safe._ _Not Steve, because to quote Steve (and yes, Romanov_ _said that she’_ _s_ _not_ _able to hear your conversations with Steve, but she’s just being polite – we both can)…_

 _Anyways, to quote Steve ‘you are_ _a spy and_ _an assassin –_ _the best one in the business_ _’._ _I’ve seen what the Winter Soldier had done in my timeline, and what a Black Widow can do. I don’t know what the Wolf Spider’s capabilities are – except that the same people who trained you and the Widows, had transformed the Wolf Spider_ _**into** _ _a Winter Soldier…_

_Well, fuck._

_Everything on that rectangle contains the data that you all found in SHIELD and HYDRA’s databases. Data on the Wolf Spider, Red Room locations, and what little digitized files there are on the Winter Soldier and Black Widow programs._

_T_ _o activate it, it needs_ _both your metal and flesh-and-blood thumbprints. If you want to secure it even further, I’ve programmed the cache to store a string of alpha-numeric digits of your choice. Steve knows about passcode safety, but you don’t have that tech yet – so here it is:_

_Don’t use your fucking birth date. Or address. Or anything that can be found in public records. Not even your mother, sisters’, or anyone’s information. Make it random, but easy to remember._

_Be like Aunt Peggy w_ _ith_ _her encryption-decryption skills._ _It took me a decade with JARVIS_ _helping_ _to crack through a_ _ciphered letter_ _she gave me in 19_ _8_ _0._

 _O_ _r not. I don’t fucking care._

 _All I care about is that you get to the bottom of this whole Wolf Spider thing, and make absolutely sure that Michael Carter_ _either_ _**is**_ _ **or is**_ _ **not**_ _the Wolf Spider. If he is, then I’ll leave it to your judgment as to what you want to do with that information._

 _This is for my father, and the hope that this new timeline that Steve has carved w_ _ill not be_ _as shitty as the one we’re both from. --_ _Tony Stark_ ]

Bucky placed the letter down and to the side. But he did not draw the rectangular thing forward. Instead, he picked up the phone; having a feeling that opening the true ‘folder’ would just cause him to forget to brief Philips – which was a priority.

“SSR Europe – Section Chief Chester Philips, please,” he stated.

“May I ask who is calling?” the woman on the end of the line crisply asked.

“James Bourne from Logistics,” he stated, using the agreed-upon alias that Philips had presented to him before he had left Europe.

“Please hold,” the woman answered.

As Bucky waited for the line to be connected and answered on Philips’ end, he unscrewed both end caps and placed the scramblers in their proper housing. The alias he used was only for emergency purposes; not to prevent wire tapping. That was what the scramblers were for.

“Philips. The line is secured,” he heard his commander gruffly state.

Even at the ungodly hour it was in London, especially on the New Year, Bucky heard no exhaustion or tiredness in Philips tone. “Sir,” he began. “There’s been an accident. The stones induced an overdose of gamma radiation – lethal amounts, I was informed by David – on S.”

Silence answered him.

Then, Philips asked, “Alive or dead?”

“Alive for now,” Bucky answered, half-marveling at just how calm he was, stating the bare minimum details into the phone. “Saline bags are being found and brought over by Michael and Lorraine. Sousa knows and has been briefed appropriately. He and Stark are raiding HQ labs for anything that might help.”

“And Carter?” Philips questioned.

“Sitting vigil,” he replied. “Do you want me to fetch—”

“No,” his commander uncharacteristically interrupted, then fell silent.

“Sir?” Bucky prompted after a minute of silence.

“Give me the how, Agent,” Philips said, sounding older and more tired than Bucky had ever heard him before.

Bucky began from the night that he had learned who the Winter Soldier was in Steve’s timeline, to the discussion and realization he had with Natasha about what Steve was trying to accomplish in 2012. He glossed over the training he had received from Steve – it was not wholly relevant to the ‘how’ of what happened in 2012.

He told his commander about Peggy’s orders to return the two stones. The order had been compounded by the fact that the Time Stone ‘escaped confinement’, and Howard’s run-in with the creatures that the sixteen remaining Widows had.

Very little details had been left out when Bucky explained what happened in 2012. Yet, he did not talk about the files that Steve had searched for – about the Wolf Spider. He still hadn’t gone through all of the files yet, and considered it a separate incident than what happened to Steve and his reckless usage of the Stones.

“This hammer,” Philips began as soon as Bucky fell silent.

“S had it with him when he found and freed Michael and I,” Bucky stated. “Thought it was just something oversized he had found. It flew back to the demigod named Thor, when Thor, Stark, and Banner arrived. Thor questioned S’s counterpart on how exactly S was able to use it. S has a copy of it here. Can’t seem to move it at all though.”

“A remnant artifact then?” Philips questioned.

“More than likely, yes,” he answered.

“Carter informed me three days ago that Stark has been working on an actual serum. What’s the status of that?”

“Unknown, sir,” he said.

He knew a little about the fact that Howard was attempting to actually recreate the serum – in between his work on the time-travel device. Howard considered the cover story of the Brooklyn facility to not just be a cover story, and it was more wholly relevant now than ever.

“And R’s… companions?”

“No one has seen them since we’ve returned,” Bucky answered.

“There’s more?” Philips asked after a few seconds of silence.

“Yes, sir,” he truthfully answered.

He didn’t know how exactly his commander always managed to do that over the phone whenever speaking to anyone – agents, legal representatives, or even members of Parliament. But Bucky also knew that keeping the Wolf Spider knowledge from his commander was detrimental – no matter how much he wanted to deny it.

“We may potentially have the identity of Wolf Spider,” he stated, lowering his voice.

He got up, took the phone with him, and went to the furthest area of the room from the door. He would not put it past anyone to have listened to his briefing to Philips through his door. For the information about Wolf Spider, Bucky knew he had to be extremely careful.

“According to information that S and his companions searched through in 2012, Wolf Spider was a former prisoner-of-war held by the Soviets. With HYDRA’s help, they created, conditioned, and deployed him during the war. Coupled with the information from the current Black Widow, there’s only one agent we both know who fits this criteria, sir.”

“And he was cleared – by his own chain of command, no less. And by you, as well,” Philips stated.

Bucky remained silent.

He had no excuse. Philips was certainly not one to buy ‘falling in love’ as an excuse. Bucky knew that he himself had been seduced and blinded by what Michael physically and emotionally offered – a kindred soul.

“Are you able to confirm?”

Startled by the question, Bucky hesitated in answering for a few seconds. He didn’t think that Philips was one to give second chances, or have seeds of doubts. He knew Philips dealt in absolutes—

“Agent,” Philips impatiently stated.

“I will confirm if it is true,” he said.

“By any means necessary, Agent,” Philips said. “You are authorized to utilize the Widows as resources, if you believe that they may help.”

“Understood, sir,” Bucky answered, but hesitated for a moment. “Sir. If it is true?”

Silence answered him and remained there for a few long moments. “Son,” Philips began, sounding as if he had no other choice in the matter. “I appreciate the fact that you told me the truth about the Winter Soldier. Not the usual silver-tongued wordsmith reports you seem to like to employ with me.”

“Sir—”

“You didn’t have to tell me, Agent,” Philips interrupted. “R showed me some of his memories of what the SSR had become – SHIELD. But I know he didn’t show me all of it. He only told me how SHIELD fell, but I caught a glimpse of your counterpart, with the blood red star marked on the silver arm. That same marking I saw on you when you were in the hospital.”

“It’s why I allowed Carter to request your presence for Brooklyn, Agent – and extended your tour of duty there. Operation Midnight might have been wrapped up, but your report indicated that there are far more threats out there than old caches of long-gone fantastical weapons. Your presence there is as much of a deterrent to enemies, as it is to ensure that no one outside of the team Carter has put together, absconds with any information.”

“I expect that R has told you about what should have happened after this mission should have been completed?” Philips asked.

“Yes, sir,” Bucky answered.

“Good,” Philips stated. “The Winter Soldier may have had a reputation as a Soviet agent in that other timeline. Here and now, is another story.”

Bucky remained silent for a second, understanding what Philips was trying to do. It was obvious to his commander that he had taken the Winter Soldier name, and was trying to mold it into something of his own making.

Even with Steve in his current condition, Philips was still going to plow ahead and try to bring SHIELD to life – to bring the SSR out from political control. The only difference was that Philips was going to swap Steve as Captain America, out for him, as the Winter Soldier. One super-soldier for another – the light of day for the shadow of night.

It was ruthless and a little heartless of Philips to be treating both him and Steve in this fashion, but with tensions escalating between the United States and Soviet Union, Bucky knew it had to be this way. None of them knew if Steve would recover – or when.

“Do what you will, sir, with the name,” he stated at last. “I will attempt to confirm if the Wolf Spider’s identity is true, but, my priority remains here.”

“Understood,” Philips answered. “And if the identity is confirmed as true, you are ‘go’ for a sanctioned action against the threat. I’ll deal with Headquarters and MI5.”

Bucky couldn’t help but glance down at his left hand, and curled his metal fingers into a fist. Ex-lover or not, friend or not, family of Steve and Peggy or not, Bucky knew why Philips ordered him to assassinate Michael – but only if Michael was confirmed to be the Wolf Spider.

Because however he felt about the order, Bucky knew that he wouldn’t hesitate.

Especially not a second time, and especially when it was Steve’s life on the line.

Because Philips didn’t need to know that Bucky had indirectly, but deliberately, killed his own father when he was ten. Because his commander didn’t need to know that he only remained with the Howling Commandos to protect Steve. Because for every action that he had taken in his life since meeting Steve Rogers in that schoolyard playground – Bucky did it because of Steve, for Steve and the world they lived in.

Selfish reasons, not selfless reasons.

“Yes, sir,” he quietly answered.

“And Winter Soldier,” his commander began.

“Sir?” he answered.

“Keep me appraised of R’s condition.”

“I will, sir.”

* * *

 _Morning,_ _January 2_ _nd_ _, 1949…_

“The rest of the 107th and Li are going to show up soon for the start of their shifts. Can either of you tell me what the hell are we going to say to them?”

“Things progressing as normal—”

“Normal, Carter? The hell—”

Peggy heard the door to the lockers open, before Bucky’s sharp tone carried down the hall, saying, “Hey. Best take this elsewhere, you three. If I can hear you in the lockers, you’re being too loud—”

She got up from where she had been listlessly sitting for the past half-hour since she had woken up and briefly went to go clean herself up for the day. There had been no change in Steve’s condition – still abnormally feverish, and his radiation burn wounds still not healing.

The only saving grace was that most of the bleeding had stopped. Yet, what little expertise Howard had on him in bio-chemistry only stated that a thin layer of sub-dermal skin had formed to stop the bleeding.

Any sort of movement – even replacing bandages – caused the bleeding to begin again. Yet, Steve needed fresh changes of bandages – to protect against external infection, while trying to give his body a chance to fight whatever infections had settled in. Not to mention that it looked like his serum-enhanced body was taxed beyond its limit.

None of them had been prepared for this. Bringing in an outside doctor had been considered, but Howard had been the one to state that it was too risky. Peggy knew what it meant, if Howard was denying the chance of having Steve’s condition looked at, by a specialist.

With what Howard had developed thus far of the serum, using what was left of Steve’s blood, Peggy understood that there was an even larger chance for misdiagnosis or something that could further adversely affect Steve – should a doctor with no knowledge of how the serum worked, try to help Steve.

Opening the door, she stepped out, surprising her brother, along with Daniel and David. The three were standing further down the hall. Her appearance had also surprised Bucky as well, who had poked his head out of the locker room to admonish the three for their loudness.

“Peggy,” Michael began.

“We tell DumDum and the others, when they report in,” she declared. “We tell them everything. They deserve to know what they’re defending, especially now that none of us know when or if we’ll ever be able to return the rest of the stones.”

She paused for a moment, taking a deep breath and tried to shove her worry and helpless feelings away. Taking a couple of steps forward from Steve’s door, she heard the locker door close for a brief moment before it opened again.

Peggy waited until Bucky joined them – having hastily gotten dressed, hair still unruly and damp. “Howard’s serum development will continue,” she began. “But I need the three of you—” she nodded towards Daniel, Michael, and Bucky “—and the others to be ever more vigilant. We hold four powerful weapons – two of them the same Tesseract.”

“You know that there is a mole in our ranks, even if peripheral and not directly related to our work here. There are sixteen Widows poking at our weak spots. There are most likely more groups or individuals out there, who would love to get their hands on a super-soldier serum – and if they can’t, possibly one or more of the stones. Or—”

“Or Steve,” Michael quietly finished up. “If there is a mole within SSR Europe, he or she might be directing those Widows as a distraction. We have to consider the possibility that knowledge of Steve being alive might already be compromised, Peggy.”

The words were painful to hear, but Peggy heard them. It reinforced the uneasy knowledge she had held within herself that ever since Dottie had warned them, there was a great possibility that Steve’s secret was out.

“I know,” she answered, nodding. “That’s why the others will be briefed by me alone. It is my responsibility.”

“We’ll keep a weather eye on things, Peggy,” Bucky reassuringly stated.

“Go sit… with your husband, Peggy—” Daniel began.

“Too much sitting, too much inaction,” she said, shaking her head slightly.

Peggy had an idea of just how much of a heartache Daniel was going through. She had known about her friend’s interest in her since they had begun to work together. She had also briefly entertained the idea of dating him – before Steve had stepped back into her life.

Since Steve’s arrival, Peggy had tried to keep Daniel at arm’s length – to maintain the boundary of their friendship. She had not wanted him to find out about her marital status this way – or break his heart in this manner. But what was done, was done.

“Thank you for your kind words, Daniel, but I know Steve wouldn’t want me to just sit there all day – not with everything else going on in the world.”

There were two nods that agreed with her words – both from Michael and Bucky. She could only imagine how much guilt Bucky was carrying, knowing now about the binding promise Steve and Bucky had made.

“Ma’am,” David hesitatingly began. “Is there anything… I feel kind of useless in this situation… I don’t have Mr. Stark’s knowledge about bio-chemistry, and there’s only so much I can check on his work on the serum—”

“Improve what you can of the device, David,” Peggy reassured him. “Research what you can for possible safeguards into the stones and device. And how we can safely store and lock away the stones – to keep them from falling into the wrong hands.”

The engineer brightened up with her words, and nodded, saying, “Will do, ma’am.”

“Come on, boys,” she said, giving all of them an expectant look. “We’ve got work to do.”

* * *

 _Afternoon,_ _January 9_ _th_ _, 1949…_

Bucky quietly sighed and knocked on the door. It was not a door within the Brooklyn facility, nor of Headquarters that he stood before. Instead, it was an apartment door that he waited in front of, hoping that perhaps it would be answered at this time of day.

It had been several days since Steve had collapsed from an acute overdose of radiation poisoning and exposure. Several days since hooking up IV bags of saline seemed to halt the progression of what the radiation was doing to Steve’s body. Yet, there had been no progress or improvement in healing or health from Steve thus far.

It was not that Bucky did not want to be by Steve’s side – to sit there and care for him whenever Peggy could not. It was because the past few days since the 107th and Agent Li had been briefed about the true nature of the facility, there had been a greater series of threats against both Howard and David’s lives.

With such an escalation of threats, it would’ve been natural to assume that someone in the 107th or even perhaps Agent Li himself had leaked the secret. Yet, Bucky did not see it that way. Instead, he saw it as a potential deflection of attention by Michael.

He hated the fact that his suspicions about Michael had deepened tremendously after reading the data that Stark had given him. Yet, he still did not tell anyone – not even Peggy – nor informed Philips about the additional information.

Michael was his mission again. Unlike the first time, Bucky knew that he had to be extremely careful and thorough in vetting whether or not the former SOE and now MI-5 agent was indeed a true double-agent, _for_ the Soviets.

The door suddenly opened, jarring him out of his thoughts as he saw his sister beaming at him. “Bucky!” she exclaimed happily. “You got another day off—”

“Unfortunately, no,” he interrupted her, shaking her head slightly, as she gestured for him to enter her home.

As soon as she closed the door, he nodded towards Becca’s husband, who had looked up from where he was sitting in the small living room, and back towards him. The newspaper Becca’s husband was reading was seemingly abandoned for a moment as Bucky saw him raise a hand in a friendly greeting.

Bucky nodded once at the greeting. As much as Becca completely trusted her husband, Bucky did not. It wasn’t because Becca’s husband was a former home-grown recruit for the NKVD, who turned against the NKVD out of love for Becca. It was because his mother enlisted Becca’s husband’s help in seemingly collecting various kinds of intelligence in and around the United States.

Becca had found out what their mother had planned for Agnes and Samantha – training them to be just like their mother: seductress and combat-ready. She had also found that that their mother was using the 14-year-old – aliased now as ‘Natalie Barnes Proctor’ – both he and their mother had found in the steppes, and Dottie Underwood for that purpose.

That was what the Christmas argument had been about, and Bucky didn’t blame her for seeing their mother in a whole new light. It was also why Becca had withdrawn herself, her husband, and Natalie, whom her and her husband adopted, and refused to reconcile with their mother. She and her husband still lived next door to her, Agnes, and Samantha, but it looked as if things had not changed much since Christmas.

“I don’t hear Natalie,” Bucky couldn’t help but comment about the unusual silence within the apartment.

He knew that ‘Natalie’ still retained some of the more ingrained training that she had received as a Widow in that ‘school’. However, during his Christmas visit, she had been ‘noisier’ with her footsteps than usual, allowing him to relax and not react to her as if she were a threat.

“She’s at Mom’s,” Becca stated in a short tone. “Mom’s home, if you’re here to talk to her, Bucky.”

He shook his head slightly. “I need to speak to Dottie Underwood,” he said. “Do you know where she lives now?”

“Apparently, with Mom and our sisters,” Becca stated, disgust clearly in her tone.

Bucky couldn’t help but blink in surprise. Before he could comment on the unusual living arrangement, Becca continued to say, “I’ll go with you, since it’s almost time for me to begin making supper, and I refuse to let Natalie spend more time than necessary with Mom.”

“Are you sure?” Bucky asked. “I can just ask Mother to send her back.”

“I need to find a way to at least put some of our disagreements aside,” Becca admitted after a moment. “Peter noticed an increase in unsavory activities as of late, and it’s not just around where you’re currently working, Bucky. Whatever is happening—”

“I’ll keep all of us safe, Becca,” Bucky stated, keeping the frown and unease he felt from appearance on his face. “You know I will—”

“I know,” Becca answered, stepping in to embrace him tightly for a moment. “But you have your own life to live, and your own burdens to contend with. Mom’s right about one thing – we are able take care of our selves. We’ve been doing so since you left for war. You don’t have to worry about us.”

Bucky wanted to be reassured by those confident words, but he wasn’t entirely convinced. “I’ll try not to, but you know I will always worry about all of you, no matter what.”

She silently nodded, and reached behind him to open the door. Stepping out as he waved a farewell to Becca’s husband, she closed the door behind him. Several steps down the hall later, the two of them stood before their mother’s apartment door.

Becca knocked. Bucky could hear shuffling within the apartment before Samantha opened the door. “Hey, Sammy,” Bucky warmly greeted.

“Bucky!” his sister cried, grinning, as she opened the door further to let both of them in. They stepped in, and Samantha closed the door after them – offering to take Bucky’s coat.

“Bucky! Becca!” Agnes called out, turning slightly from where she was, apparently making some kind of cake or pastry of sorts with Samantha’s help.

“Aggie,” Bucky greeted, only to have the youngest of the Barnes children turn and stick her tongue out at him. They all knew that Agnes disliked, but tolerated the diminutive nickname that the family occasionally called her.

“Ah,” the sound of their mother’s voice floated down the hall, as Bucky heard her approach. “Rebecca and James. What brings the two of you—”

As soon as their mother turned the corner, Bucky’s guard went up. Gone were the imperiously haughty eyes of hers that held a hidden strength within. Bucky saw clear and present danger within those crystal eyes of hers.

Even stranger was Natalie’s reaction. She had followed their mother down, and as soon as she peeked out behind, she froze for a second. Then, the girl darted towards the kitchen counter top where the knives block was – and reached for a knife.

“What on…” Bucky heard Becca begin, before Samantha snatched the block far and away from the teenager.

As momentarily confused as Bucky was, it was finally the appearance of Dottie Underwood from the other end of the hall, that gave him a clue as to what was going on. The current Black Widow had abruptly stopped at the threshold, pinning her piercing gaze on him. Bucky recognized the signs of her belligerence towards him.

“You’ve changed—” Underwood began in a carefully neutral tone.

His mother, Natalie, and Underwood were reacting because of him. Because they now saw him as an apex predator, as the—

“Winter Soldier,” Underwood finished.

“You said that program does not exist – no longer exists—” he heard his mother hiss, pinning Underwood with a heated glare.

At once, Bucky had an inkling as to why his mother wanted Underwood under her watchful eye. It was not just to train Samantha and Agnes in combat, but to apparently ensure or continue making sure that fantastical human weapons created by her former motherland did not exist.

“It no longer does,” he stated, taking a single step forward in the direction of where Underwood was.

Given the confused looks that his sisters were giving him and their mother, along with Underwood, Bucky surmised that even with everything, their mother had not told them the whole truth. It was much too late to send his sisters away – and he could see that glimmer of defeat in his mother’s eyes.

Natalie still looked like the coiled cat, but there was absolutely nothing about her that Bucky found threatening. It looked like she had found a pencil and was thinking of using that as an improvised weapon, but Bucky was not worried about her attacking him.

“I need to speak with you, Underwood,” he bluntly stated to the woman.

“I don’t give information freely anymore—” Underwood began.

“In this household, no matter whom my son or daughters are affiliated with, you will,” his mother viciously cut in. “Especially when you’ve withheld the fact that this Winter Soldier Program exists—”

“Enough.”

Bucky had not meant to frighten even his sisters with that single word – coldly growled. But it had completely stopped the argument from escalating. Seeing that he was not going to be prevented by his mother from questioning Underwood, he gestured to her to sit at the dining table.

“Please, have a seat, Underwood,” he stated, approaching and taking the seat directly opposite of where she still stood.

It took his mother, grabbing Underwood by the arm and leading her to the table, to sit – they both did. Bucky tried to ignore the actions of his sisters as much as possible, but he noticed that they crowded within the kitchen. He also noticed Becca attempting to calm Natalie down, and draw the pencil-turned-weapon out of her grasp.

Bucky withdrew his sidearm from within his shoulder holster, and ejected the clip and single bullet within the firing chamber. He placed it to the side. The 2012 folder was still sitting within his jacket pocket – safe and secured. He did not withdraw it, but instead folded his gloved hands together.

“Wolf Spider. What do you know?” he asked.

“Everything you know, Winter Soldier,” she answered.

“Humor me,” he stated, not even bothering to give into the petty spat she tried to instigate.

Whether it was the minute tightening of his mother’s hand on Underwood’s arm, or otherwise, the anger within the woman’s eyes suddenly fled. There was not a sense of defeat that replaced it, but a sense of inevitability.

“I only know that the program was the equivalent of the Black Widows, but that it only produced one candidate-agent. I do not know whom the candidate was aliased as, and did not interact with the Wolf Spider much – only once. It was to retrieve him from the front lines. Word reached my handler—”

“Ivchenko?” Bucky interrupted.

“Shostakov,” Underwood stated, a humorless smile gracing her lips. “Ivchenko became my handler after the war.”

She tapped the table top with her fingers for a brief moment, before continuing on. “Word reached us that Wolf Spider was unstable, possibly sabotaging the war efforts of our country. I was dispatched to retrieve him.”

“Where did you find the Wolf Spider?” he questioned.

“Prague. 6th of May, 1945,” she stated. “He was highly unstable. I was unable to physically subdue him, even after drawing his attention away from those still fighting in the streets. Ivchenko had armed me with several phrases to say – but he never told me that the compliance commands were not fully operational.”

Bucky felt a chill go through him, but kept it from showing. After all that he and Michael had been through during the war – after finding out that Michael _had_ been affected by the damnable ring that Ivchenko had worn – Bucky had dismissed the signs.

He had _seen_ Michael unable to move or shoot Ivchenko in the aftermath of the London Underground incident. Michael had explicitly told him that he had been affected by the ring that Ivchenko wore – had _had_ commands embedded within him to give information to Ivchenko and Shostakov.

The SOE and MI-5 had known _**and**_ cleared Michael to continue with his work as a double-agent—

They all had known, and they all had ultimately been taken in by the grain of truth seeded with just enough doubt about Michael – after he had been found alive in that HYDRA facility in November 1944.

“Then what?” Bucky forced himself to continue to ask.

“Then I brought him back, and told both Ivchenko Shostakov that they needed to recondition him – if they wanted to continue using him,” Underwood stated. “Shostakov shuttered the program right then and there.”

“What was the date?”

“The 10th of May – four days after I found him,” she answered. “You’ve found information about the Wolf Spider, didn’t you?”

“Why did you call me a Wolf Spider before?” he questioned.

“Mannerisms mostly,” Underwood stated. “Your behavior had lent you more of being Wolf Spider than the beginnings of the Winter Soldier that I had caught a glimpse of. Seeing you on ice after your fall and capture… I had heard about the stories from Colonel Rostov and then-Lieutenant Shostakov – not the propaganda comics – about what you did as the sniper for the Howling Commandos in Kronas—”

“I’d advise you to stop now, and drop it,” he interrupted her, deliberately flicking his eyes towards his mother.

Wisely, Underwood understood the implications, and did not even glance over towards his mother. Instead, she folded her hands together, resting them on the table in a similar manner.

Her taunts were shallow and no longer affected him. From just the questions he asked, he knew that she knew little about the other programs – especially about the Winter Soldier Program.

“On ice?” Becca had whispered that in a horrified tone.

Bucky remained silent. All his sisters and mother knew was that he had been declared dead from the Alps mission, and then found alive half-way around the world. None of them knew what Zola and Ivchenko had done to him – while being held prisoner at that damnable HYDRA facility within the Bering Sea.

“Is Peggy all right?”

He ignored Underwood’s question, hearing the protectiveness within her tone. It was well-hidden though, but he caught the knowing look that his mother had silently shot him. Peggy was to Dottie as Steve was – had been, as far as his mother knew – to him.

“Your warning to the SSR—”

“To Peggy,” Underwood corrected, a touch of anger in her tone. “I don’t care for your SSR.”

“Regardless,” he continued in calm, controlled tone, “Your warning: ‘you have a traitor in your midst, and this traitor has been passing information to the Motherland for the past two years.’ Who did you hear it from, how, and where?”

“Ivchenko, in early 1946, before I was sent to New York to gain access to Howard Stark’s cache of weaponry,” Underwood said. “All I had overheard was the possibility of him being able to resurrect the Wolf Spider, after they had completed their work on the Winter Soldier. On you.”

“They. They who?” he asked.

At the same time, his mother asked, “What ‘work’ on James?”

There was no way around it, and Bucky knew that he could not withhold any further information from his mother – or his sisters – about what happened to him. Especially not with the words that Underwood had stated.

“I was held prisoner at a secret facility in the Bering Sea, Mother,” he stated in a short tone. “From my fall in the Alps, until I was rescued. I was kept on periodic ice, cryogenic freezing, and occasionally… thawed, for my captors to ‘experiment’ on me. Much like how HYDRA’s Dr. Arnim Zola made me a super-soldier, when the majority of the 107th had been captured by HYDRA in Italy.”

He had also never told his family about being a super-soldier. During Operation Midnight, he had been careful to hide most of his enhanced strength and agility from his mother – occasionally chalking it up to US Army training for some of the more ‘impossible’ feats, or blaming it on the metal arm she knew he had.

But before his sisters, or mother could say a word, he pressed on, asking, “They who, Underwood?”

“Ivchenko and the other scientists. I have no other names,” Underwood stated.

Bucky considered his options for a brief moment at this juncture of his questioning. He could continue to press, but as he had concluded earlier, she knew little to nothing about the other two programs. But the question remained: how exactly did she know that the SSR had a traitor – and where she had seen Michael _**after**_ he had been captured again in 1945?

“Is this the Wolf Spider you captured in 1945?” he asked.

He reached into his jacket pocket for the small photograph of Michael he had managed to steal off of the dossier files that Peggy kept within Brooklyn. He slid the photograph forward and withdrew his gloved hand.

Underwood, along with his mother, and even his sisters, leaned forward slightly to peer at the photograph. Even before Underwood fully raised her head to answer him, Bucky saw the confirmation in her eyes.

“Yes.”

“Per your warning, where and when did you last see him in the past two years?” he asked, managing to keep himself calm at the face of the revelation.

“Twice before, both times within the vicinity of Peggy’s house. He evaded my tracking, using various techniques that I had seen MI-5 agents utilize – and those taught to both Widows and apparently, the Wolf Spider as well,” Underwood answered. “Who is he? Is Peggy safe? Is she all right?”

“Agent Carter is safe, for now,” he answered her, gathering up the photograph, along with his pistol, cartridge, and bullet. He re-armed himself, and placed the photograph back into his pocket, before standing up. “Thank you for your cooperation, Ms. Underwood.”

Turning his attention to his mother, and avoiding the dismayed expressions on his sister’s faces, he said in a quieter tone, “Mother… Mom, I’ll give you a call when this is all over. Is that all right with you?”

“Take all the time you need, James,” his mother softly stated, nodding in understanding.

As he went to the closet where his coat was hanging and took it, he heard Underwood say, “Let me help, please, Agent Barnes. I’ll submit to whatever the SSR wants to do with me, but please let me help and protect Peggy—”

“I don’t have authorization to bring you in, Ms. Underwood,” Bucky stated, as he buttoned up his coat, glancing back at her.

“You don’t have…” Underwood began, frowning, “They know I’m here?”

“My commander knows you’re working independently,” he stated, reaching for the door handle. “But, I’ll ask him if he’s willing to bring in a Black Widow from the cold, and give you asylum.”

Bucky left without another word to his family or Underwood. Nor did he look back as he closed the door behind him.

Silently, and with a heavy heart, Bucky made his way down the hall, stairs, and out into the streets. The light snow that had been falling since the morning had turned thicker and more adverse. There was a clear, slippery layer on the sidewalks, and not a lot of footprints around. He stepped out into the sidewalk and began walking back towards the Brooklyn facility.

“04-07-1970, Barnes.”

Bucky turned towards the source of the voice, only to see Tony standing in the shadows of a rather dirty, snow-covered alleyway. “Stark?” he questioned.

Glancing to his left and right – and above for the hell of it – he didn’t see anyone suspicious within his vicinity. With the snow falling at the rate it was falling now, most people would’ve already headed indoors.

Bucky took a couple of steps into the alleyway, but before he could get any close, he saw Tony lift up a hand up – still shadowed by the darkness of the alleyway. The non-verbal cue was enough to halt Bucky where he was.

However, he couldn’t help but feel gravely concerned. This was the first time since they had returned from 2012 that he had even seen a hair or hide of Steve’s two friends who were ‘trapped’ in the Soul Stone.

“04-07-1970,” Tony repeated, seemingly shuddering and struggling to breathe for a moment, before taking a single step forward.

Bucky nearly recoiled at just how horrifically wounded Tony looked. He had seen how the stones had affected the inventor in Steve’s memories, but it didn’t seem real back then. Now, Tony stood before him, leaning heavily against the alleyway’s wall

Tony looked desiccated with blood-shot eyes. Blackened blood and burst veins crawling up from his right hand to his face. The Iron Man suit, formerly pristine red-gold vibranium armor, was complete crackled in black.

It looked worse than what Bucky had seen in Steve’s memories. He couldn’t help but think that if Tony looked like this at the moment, then Natasha was most likely sharing a similar fate. And that all three – Steve, Natasha, and Tony – had been affected by the radiation overload, and escape of what seemed like another one of Thanos’s erased generals.

“Get help, Barnes,” Tony raggedly whispered as he faded. “04-07-1970, Garden State.”

* * *

_Brooklyn Facility…_

Peggy gently reached out and smoothed Steve’s hair back from his forehead. The acute hitch of his breath – steady, but clearly labored – continued to make her heart ache. Yet, there was nothing she could do to ease the pain she could only imagine Steve to be in.

Howard had tried all sorts of painkillers – from potently powerful ones to illegal substances. None looked as if they eased Steve’s pain, or help him relax. Even the small droplets of blood that Howard had taken and experimented with, from the bandages that were changed daily, yielded no cure.

As Peggy sat back in her chair, she knew that she should have been focusing more on her duties as the Agent-in-Charge of the facility. Yet—

A slam of the doors and clatter in the laboratory below startled her. Quickly getting up, she went to the window and drew back the curtains – only to see Bucky hurry down the stairs. Even before he reached the area where the lead covering for the prototype arc reactor had been placed over the time-jump bangle, Peggy was already on her way out.

Even this far down the hall, she could hear Howard and David’s shouts of exclamations and protest. Even Michael’s voice was raised in alarm. Daniel appeared at the end of the hallway, and joined her as they both went through the doors and stopped at the top of the stairs.

“Agent Barnes!” she cried out.

Bucky had his pistol out in his left hand, and was _pointing_ it at Howard – occasionally shifting to Michael to prevent Michael from taking a step forward, or closer to the time-travel device. David was standing a little ways away, looking both afraid and in shock.

“Let me go, Peggy,” Bucky stated in a strained tone, keeping an eye on Howard, Michael, and David. Peggy saw him step backwards until he was on the platform.

It was then, that Peggy noticed that he wore the time-jump bangle. The other one that had been thrown on the table was also gone. She saw him reach across with his right hand and tap a pattern on the bangle. A dark-blue uniform with a dark-colored imprint of a star, along with segmented red-white stripes that enveloped his torso, bled up and around Bucky.

“What are you doing? Why?” she shouted.

It was obvious that Bucky was attempting to complete Steve’s mission. But for what gain or purpose, even at the potential expense of his own health, was something that Peggy did not understand.

“Getting help,” was all that he answered, before he tapped out something under his left wrist. The time-jump armor formed around him even more quickly than one of Steve’s Captain America uniforms.

Then, Bucky suddenly vanished.

~*~*~*~


	21. Stasis – Part 2 – 1970

**Chapter 16: Stasis – Part 2 – 1970**

Peggy rubbed her temples with both of her hands as soon as the door closed. It was always like this – last minute meetings to ensure the smooth operation of things at Headquarters during her time of absence. Not to mention that her colleagues and the department heads always seem to find an excuse of sorts to panic about some inanity or another less than a day before she was due to depart—

“Ma’am!”

Peggy hadn’t even gotten to cross the threshold between her secretary’s office and into her own blissfully darkened and silent cave of an office, when the MP had burst in.

“Ma’am, there’s been a situation. You gotta come see this. He’s been asking for you—”

“Deep breaths, Private—” she began.

The MP huffed and took a deep breath before straightening at the doorway. “Sorry, ma’am,” the MP said. “There’s been a… not quite security breach…”

“A not quite security breach,” she repeated.

“Ma’am… a man dressed in some kind of uniform that looks similar to Captain America’s uniform just… appeared in Dr. Pym’s laboratory,” the MP stated.

“A 0-8-4?”

“We… Lieutenant Baker believes so, ma’am,” the MP answered, nodding once.

“And Dr. Pym?” she asked, as she nodded for the MP to show her the way.

“Safe. The Lieutenant had Gregson bring Dr. Pym to the infirmary, just in case. He was returning from Shipping, and complained to us about those in Shipping playing an apparent prank on him – before the 0-8-4 showed up,” the MP briefed her.

It was a short few winding halls to Dr. Hank Pym’s laboratory. When they arrived, there were two MPs at the door, looking alert, while another was a little ways down the hall, redirecting traffic.

Peggy entered, and stopped short as she saw a man kneeling in the center of the laboratory, with his gloved hands held behind his head. The man was surrounded by six highly armed guards, and Lieutenant Baker, but didn’t look as alarmed as Peggy thought he would be – given the rifles pointed at him.

The uniform that the man wore did indeed, look similar to the uniform that she remembered Steve wearing. Loose, but still somewhat form-fitting, flexible material, and dark blue in color. There was a dark outline of what looked like there should have been a star in the center of his chest.

Darkened and dirtied white and red stripes surrounded his torso, and a small bandoleer of compartments ran around his waist. The man’s hands were gloved in the same color as his shin-high boots were.

The helmet was almost as dark in color of the entire uniform, but the eyes within the helmet was not the blue-green color she expected. They were oceanic blue in color… and coupled with the angular shape of the chin—

The stranger’s helmet suddenly retracted – no, bled away to his neck—

“Sergeant Barnes?!” she squeaked.

“Hey, Carter.”

* * *

Despite his underlying worry for Steve, and unease of his surroundings, Bucky forced himself to remain calm.

He could hear the tiny whirs of various observation cameras in the medical laboratory. He knew there were MPs standing outside, guarding the area. He was being watched by unseen eyes carefully. Apart from the slightly awkward greeting he and this timeline’s Peggy Carter shared, no one had approached or questioned him.

All Peggy had done was to order the MPs to escort him to the medical wing.

The laboratory looked bright and pristine. The walls were colored in a rather soothing gradient-like scheme from soft grey to soft blue. The lights were not harsh in coloring, tables colored in the same grey color as part of the wall, and even curtains that sectioned off each area for a single patient, were not stark white.

It was completely different from what he hazily remembered of the brick-lined, cold, and dirty area in the HYDRA facility where Zola had conducted his super-soldier experiments upon him. It was also different from the damp and dark laboratory where Ivchenko and Zola had performed their Winter Soldier experiments upon him.

But a medical laboratory was a medical laboratory, no matter how much one could dress it up.

The door to the laboratory opened, and Bucky saw a young man – younger than he expected – wearing a white laboratory coat walk in. There was a stethoscope draped around his neck, and a couple of pens sticking out of his coat’s upper breast pocket. His SHIELD identification badge was clipped to the pocket, but flipped so that Bucky couldn’t see his name.

Bucky frowned – as good-looking as the young man appeared, there were similar features to Peggy—

“Sergeant Barnes?” the young man asked, giving him a kind smile, as he approached and stuck out his hand. “Dr. Alex Carter. Director Carter’s brother. Pleasure to meet you.”

Bucky blinked in surprise before manners kicked him in the head to return the handshake. Still, the white lab coat unsettled him, no matter if the person wearing it seemed kind.

“Firm grip you have there, sir,” Dr. Carter stated, grinning slightly as they let go of each other’s hands. “Your temperature seems a little elevated, but none of the alarms here have gone off thus far, so I think it’s safe to say for the record: you’re not a biological threat to us, even for a 0-8-4.”

“0-8-4?” Bucky questioned, realizing that Dr. Carter was stating the assessment out loud for those watching and listening through the cameras. It was also then that he realized that SHIELD – specifically Peggy sent her own brother in, into a potentially dangerous situation.

“Carter… Peggy used you as—” he began, slightly appalled that Peggy would order her own family into something dangerous.

“I volunteered, Sergeant.”

There was still a kind expression on Dr. Carter’s face, but Bucky heard the steel behind the words. He didn’t need much, and his initial assessment told him a fair amount about the young man.

“You enlisted,” he began, tilting his head slightly. “Served initially as a medic for your unit, before being recruited by another...more classified one. Perhaps SAS. You were deployed somewhere remote for direct engagement to serve British interests.”

“I was in Dhofar for a brief spell, before being offered a rotation here,” Dr. Carter answered.

The smile on the young man’s face was full of good humor, and none of malice. Bucky had guessed right, and given the slightly elevated nod he saw Dr. Carter perform at the camera 90 degrees from both of them, it was a signal to stand down.

He heard the minute shifting of the guards outside, and could only surmise that they had relaxed their guard slightly. Of the cameras, they continued to whir, but Dr. Carter had stepped back out of his personal space. Bucky’s sense of unease diminished only slightly – the lab coat that Dr. Carter wore was still unsettling him.

“So what brings you to this neck of the woods, Sergeant?” Dr. Carter conversationally asked, as Bucky saw him hop up on the table directly across from the one he was sitting on. “It’s not every day we get people as 0-8-4, especially travelers that look like people long dead. I can safely say that you almost gave my sister a heart attack.”

“How sure are you that I’m not Sergeant James Barnes, return from the dead?”

“Your uniform for one thing,” Dr. Carter stated, gesturing to his outfit. “And the reports from Lieutenant Baker and his team, indicating how your helmet retracted. That’s highly advanced technology that nearly boggles the mind – almost science-fiction.”

“But that’s only the physical appearance,” Dr. Carter continued to say. “I’m under orders to conduct a medical exam of you to ensure that you truly are not a biological threat to us. And to assess whether or not you really are Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes of the Howling Commandos, returned from the dead.”

Bucky really had no compunction about stripping naked in front of people when changing in and out of uniform. Yet, the prospect of a medical exam made him feel even more uneasy—

“I only need a blood sample, sir,” Dr. Carter’s kind voice interrupted his thoughts. “That is all, for the medical exam.”

Bucky couldn’t help but frown. While he remembered seeing Steve’s memories of his early days spent in SHIELD – orientation, fitness and medical exams, and so many other things – he was a little surprised at the simple request.

“That’s it?” he asked.

“That’s it,” Dr. Carter answered. “SHIELD… learned its lesson in full-body medical exams on humanoid 0-8-4s after the last one that ended up here. That 0-8-4 turned out to be a blue-skinned, angry alien who was not dead, that killed the former Chief Medical Officer. It took ten of our strongest guys and a tall order of heavy elephant tranquilizers to subdue it.”

“I’m sorry,” Bucky couldn’t help but say.

The smile that Dr. Carter gave him was humorless, but it was quickly erased as Bucky saw him hop off the table and head to another. Dr. Carter put on some gloves, and collected what looked like a thick rubber band and a strange-looking syringe and tube, onto a tray.

Even before the young doctor got within a few steps of him, Bucky gritted his teeth and said, “Would you—would you please… not the coat. Please.”

It sounded as if Dr. Carter was telling the truth about whatever had happened here, and that he only wanted to draw some blood for the medical exam. But even that was a little too much for Bucky to bear – especially with any medical officer standing close to him dressed in a white lab coat.

“Oh,” he heard Dr. Carter murmur, stopping where he was, before backtracking.

Bucky saw him place the tray down before shedding his medical coat. It was draped over another table, and Dr. Carter changed out his gloves again.

“I’m sorry about that,” Dr. Carter gently and sympathetically stated, as Bucky avoided looking at the medical equipment tray that was placed next to him.

“Doctors… aren’t my most favorite of people,” Bucky quietly answered, hoping that it was enough to suffice any curious questions.

“I understand,” the young doctor stated, nodding once. “Would you like me to play some music, as a distraction?”

Bucky silently shook his head, before taking a deep breath. “Let’s get this over with,” he gruffly stated.

Deactivating the armor, it quickly bled back into the bangle still strapped around his gloved left wrist. He didn’t even wait for the murmur of surprise from Dr. Carter, before roughly unbuttoning the cuff of his right sleeve and rolled up the sleeve of his collared shirt. Sticking his arm out to the side, Bucky then turned his head to the other side.

To his relief, and slight surprise, Dr. Carter worked on drawing his blood rather quickly. Bucky felt the large rubber band being tied around the upper part of his arm, but didn’t even feel the prick of the needle. Only a couple of minutes had passed before he heard the materials being used to draw his blood be placed on the tray again.

The tourniquet around his arm was loosened, and then the puff of a cotton ball was pressed against his skin. “Hold that for a few minutes, please, while I go find you a band aid, sir,” Dr. Carter stated.

Bucky turned back, and did as he was told. But he couldn’t hide the fact that he had rapid healing abilities, as Dr. Carter returned with a small adhesive strip and indicated that he should remove the cotton ball.

“Huh...” was all Dr. Carter stated, unable to find the area where the needle mark had been.

“Super-soldier,” Bucky simply stated.

It was Dr. Carter’s turn to blink in surprise. With the young doctor standing this close to him, Bucky could definitely see the resemblance to Peggy. Handsomely confident, calm and composed in the face of danger. Yet, he could also see hints of Michael in Dr. Carter’s facial structure and especially in his eyes.

The thought of Michael made him look away, as an even heavier feeling settled within his heart. His looking away also apparently broke the spell of prolonged staring between the two of them.

Bucky heard the young doctor clear his throat, and glanced back just in time to see Dr. Carter’s cheeks turn slightly red for a brief moment. Bucky knew that look… that flushed reaction… It was the same reaction Michael always had whenever—

The doctor recovered quickly though, and said, “I’ll have the results and verdict on Director Carter’s desk soon. If you would please, Sergeant—”

“It’s Agent,” Bucky stated, as he hopped to the floor, rolling down his sleeve.

He strode to the door, not surprised as the two MPs outside, entered. They were ready to escort him to wherever he was going to be held for the time being.

“Agent James Barnes, of the SSR,” he stated, turning slightly towards Dr. Carter. “I’m here,” he continued to say, “because I need Peggy Carter’s help to save my best friend, Steve Rogers.”

* * *

Peggy knew that she should have been home sleeping – her flight to Bucharest was due to leave in a few hours. But, with the unexpected arrival of one SSR Agent James Barnes—even her husband had asked if she needed him to report to Headquarters.

It could have been a lie, but as she stopped the recording and played it back again, Peggy knew that this James Buchanan Barnes – this Bucky Barnes – was not lying. Steve was alive, somewhere in perhaps another world that this Bucky came from. His words woke a formerly long settled ache within her heart.

Steve was alive.

But not here—

The knock on her office door from the hall entrance startled her slightly. “Come in, Alex,” she stated, seeing the familiar outline of her younger brother through the frosted glass.

Her brother entered, looking as tired as she felt. There was a seriousness in his eyes though, as he closed the door and took a seat before her desk. He silently handed an unmarked folder to her. She took it, but did not open it yet.

“One hundred percent James Buchanan Barnes, Peggy,” she heard him state.

“But…” she began, expecting it.

“None of the details that Dr. Zola gave us about how he created his version of the super-soldier serum matches the markers that I was examining in Barnes’ DNA—”

“So this Agent Barnes _is_ a 0-8-4, a traveler from another—” Peggy began.

“I’m talking about what little DNA sample was extracted from the recovered personal effects that Sergeant Barnes – our world’s Sergeant Barnes, owned during the war, sis,” Alex said, shaking his head slightly. “Like I said – that Agent Barnes is a hundred percent match to himself here. But he is a 0-8-4.”

“How?” Peggy questioned.

“There’s trace amounts of signs of radiation damage in his blood,” Alex said, sighing and rubbing the back of his neck. “Judging by the match, it’s safe for me to assume that whatever Zola did to him during the war – his war – it’s holding back any further damage. But it would explain why he has a slightly elevated temperature when I shook his hand.”

Peggy frowned.

Alex had taken an unusual interest in the fledgling field of nuclear medicine when he had briefly attended college before deciding to enlist. Though never extensively trained, what little Peggy knew of the missions that Alex had been deployed on with his SAS unit, was that he acquired even more knowledge about nuclear medicine during that time.

Only a few weeks after Dr. Franklin had been killed by the 0-8-4 alien, the World Council had overruled her request to not bring her brother into the folds of SHIELD. They were determined to have someone in that medical field heading up a re-attempt of creating the super-soldier serum with Howard and Dr. Zola. Alex was their best candidate – and thus, he had been made CMO of SHIELD.

“But how do you know Agent Barnes is from another world?” she continued to ask.

“Gut instinct,” Alex answered. “His words to you, and most of all, that tech he’s wearing – especially his Captain America-like uniform.”

Peggy didn’t realize that she had been rubbing and twisting the wedding band on her ring finger, until her brother’s hand landed over her own.

“From everything you told me about Captain Rogers and Sergeant Barnes, I don’t think this Agent Barnes would deliberately invoke bad memories for you, unless he didn’t know, Peggy,” she heard her brother gently say before letting go and sat back.

“So you’re also saying that Dr. Zola lied to us, about his serum research?” she said after a moment, unfolding her hands.

Alex remained silent.

“The room has been swept for bugs, Alex,” she stated. “I did it myself.”

“Maybe,” her brother conceded at long last. “The World Council might have overruled you, but I’m sure they have their own spies here. They haven’t stopped us from interacting, yet.”

“Alex,” she began, feeling a little apprehensive.

Her brother did not have the spy training or experience she – and their deceased older brother – had. Her brother was a formerly enlisted medic – a soldier-doctor. Not a spy.

“Don’t worry, Peggy,” he said, giving her a smile. “I’m leaving all of that cloak and dagger thing to you. I just have my reservations, having worked with both Dr. Zola and Howard for these past few months.”

She silently nodded. “Well then, let’s see what this Agent Barnes of the SSR wants.”

~~~

“Tony’s managed to gather enough strength, and repair most of his armor to loop the cameras for a few minutes at your two and seven-o-clocks. The bugs have also been disabled.”

Bucky nearly jumped up from where he was sitting in the ‘cell’ at the unfamiliar voice. While not quite a guest room, it was half-cell, half room. There was a small bathroom with a sink, toilet, and shower adjacent to the rather uncomfortable, cramped room. A slab with a blanket and pillow that served as the bed was situated here.

With his serum-enhanced hearing, Bucky had identified two cameras, and numerous amounts of bugs that had been placed in various areas around the room and bathroom. It was more an observational cell than anything else.

It took him a few moments to realize that the voice sounded like Dr. Banner – from Steve’s memories. Turning slightly towards the voice, Bucky saw that there was a rather large outline standing in the shadows of the ‘cell’.

“Dr. Banner?” he curiously questioned.

“A small part of me,” Banner answered, taking a step out of the shadows – enough so that Bucky could visually confirm that it was the green not-quite-Hulk person.

“I’m the third and final barrier within the stones,” Banner explained, gesturing to his appearance. It looked much worse than what Bucky remembered from Steve’s memories of Banner snapping his fingers to bring everyone lost in 2018 back to 2023.

“Not much for talking or showing myself. It looked as if Nat and Tony had everything handled. I tried to take the brunt of the radiation from the others and Steve, but… there’s only so much—”

“You, or the others could absorb,” Bucky finished up.

As angry as he wanted to be, to blame Banner, Stark, and Natasha for not doing their jobs to protect Steve – especially with the apparent unleashing of another of Thanos’ generals – he could bring himself to feel so. Just looking at Banner, and Stark when Stark told him the date to input into the time-jump armor, made his anger flee.

“Yeah,” Banner reluctantly answered. “Sorry—”

“Steve’s a dumbass,” Bucky couldn't help but state in slight bitter derision. “I’ve spent nearly my entire life trying to stop him from doing stupid, reckless stuff. I don’t expect his friends to succeed where I failed—”

“And that’s why Tony had you return here, to return the Tesseract _and_ get help here, in 1970,” Banner quietly interrupted.

“Ask a person well-versed in radiation poisoning for advice?” Bucky questioned. “I was going to ask them that, but then I remembered that this place is overrun by HYDRA. I’d also rather keep the Tesseract away from SHIELD in this timeline.”

“SHIELD knows about radiation damage, and how to help someone who’s suffered from it,” Banner stated, taking a seat next to him on the cold floor. “Dr. Alex Carter. He became one of SHIELD’s experts in radiation biology. His work here was the basis for some of my work in the future.”

Bucky couldn’t help but frown. “He looks a little young to be an expert, Doc.”

A small grin crept up Banner’s lips, before the man said, “1970 is when he was recruited into SHIELD. He’s still not the expert he will become, but if Steve’s memories of SHIELD are anything to say – SHIELD recruits really smart people, no matter their age.”

The frown on Bucky’s face remained, as he couldn’t help but wonder— “If you know so much about gamma radiation and the damage it can cause, why didn’t you show up before all of this?”

“Because I’m the last gatekeeper that keeps Thanos’ horde from escaping,” Banner answered. “It’s more difficult than either Nat or Tony are letting on, Agent Barnes. The stones give and take – and leaving them together provides better escape routes for Thanos’ army than separating all of them. And with Nat and Tony now down—”

“I understand,” Bucky quietly answered.

“Seek out Dr. Carter’s advice,” Banner suggested. “And if it’s the same as mine, then...”

“What advice is that, Doc?” he questioned.

“You most likely need to find Steve in this timeline and rescue him from the war bomber in the Arctic. Steve, in your timeline, will need a transfusion of clean, fresh blood that’s not contaminated – to jump-start his healing process,” Banner said, glancing over at him. “I’m sorry.”

As much as Bucky wanted to swear, he refrained from doing so. He didn’t know where exactly Steve was in the Arctic. SHIELD here held a nesting, hidden HYDRA – and bringing Steve back from the relative dead was sure to ruffle more than just feathers.

“This place is a den of HYDRA, Banner,” he stated.

“There’s at least three people you know you can trust here, Agent,” Banner answered. “Director Carter, Howard Stark, and Dr. Carter.”

Bucky considered Banner’s words for a few moments. “Dr. Carter… HYDRA killed him, didn’t they?”

“He drove his car off a cliff in the Palisades, and into the Hudson,” the man quietly said. “1989. He had a male passenger with him – passenger was killed as well. Police ruled it as accidental suicide. Dr. Carter had been served divorce papers the day before by his wife. Interview with their daughter, Sharon, indicated that Dr. Carter and his soon-to-be ex-wife had been fighting for the better part of six months.”

“But…” Bucky began.

“Postmortem autopsy by SHIELD found traces of radioactive material in his stomach lining,” Banner said. “Half-life decay suggests that he was fed those traces well before the arguments began. DNA trace of the passenger also yielded a mismatch between the appearance of the passenger people saw getting into his car, and the body found at the accident site. Those results never made it to Director Carter’s desk.”

“Did the results ever had a date of radiation poisoning inception?” Bucky asked, frowning and feeling a slight amount of dread well up in his stomach.

“No, but there are estimates of up to a year-and-a-half, perhaps two at most,” Banner answered. “At least that’s what the files Nat released in our 2014, suggested.”

“Shit,” Bucky couldn’t help but mutter. “I think the Wolf Spider killed Dr. Carter. There was a note in his file that mentioned a mission to the New York’s Hudson valley region from 1987 to 1989. To ascertain and ensure that the true biological contamination extent of the Chernobyl incident in 1986, was not made public by a British-American researcher.”

Banner remained silent. It didn’t help Bucky at all, as he felt an awful feeling in his stomach. Wolf Spider was confirmed to be Michael Carter – but only through the leaked files. It sickened him to think, and possibly confirm that Michael had deliberately killed his own brother in 1989.

Bucky knew for sure as hell that Wolf Spider was active right here and now, and neither Peggy or her younger brother knew—

The sounds of footsteps approaching caused him to look up as he saw Banner disappear out of the corner of his eyes. He could hear the faint whir of the cameras spooling up, and schooled his expression to that of slight boredom.

The door opened, spilling some brighter light into the dim ‘cell’. “Agent Barnes?” the guard at the door said. “Please follow us. Director Carter would like to speak to you.”

Bucky got up and followed the guard out. He could only surmise that it was quite late at night, given that the only people he saw in and around the halls they were walking through, were guards. It was also apparent to him that SHIELD did not consider him a threat or a prisoner – they did not cover his head in a sackcloth at all.

They finally stopped at Peggy’s office. The guard knocked, and Bucky heard the faint confirmation from Peggy to enter.

Stepping in after the guard opened the door, Bucky waited until the guard closed the door and footsteps faded away, before looking around. Peggy was sitting behind her desk, looking as stern as ever. There were tiny, thin wisps of grey interspersed within her brown hair, but she still looked quite youthful for her age in 1970.

In the far corner of her office was Peggy’s younger brother – who was in the midst of hanging up his white lab coat at the coat stand. “Dr. Carter,” he greeted, before turning his attention back onto Peggy. “And… I guess you’re Director Carter now. No longer Agent.”

“And you’re not Sergeant Barnes,” she answered, gesturing for him to take a seat before her.

He did so, and was not surprised that Peggy’s brother took the other seat. “Was,” he said, focusing his attention on Peggy. “I left the service after the war. Philips offered me a job with the SSR, and I took it.”

“Second World War?” Peggy questioned.

“Second World War,” he confirmed.

“You’re what we, SHIELD, call a 0-8-4, Agent Barnes,” Peggy began. “An anomaly that we are unable to classify, due to the advance nature of technology that we do not have the means to discern. It’s rare that we get people classified as 0-8-4s. To put it bluntly, you’re dead in this world.”

“D’ya ever recovery a body, Director?” Bucky asked.

Peggy frowned – a familiar sight to him, whenever confronted with the possibility of something that could become a danger. “No. We could not,” she carefully answered. “Captain Rogers and his team were on a mission to—”

“Intercept and capture Dr. Arnim Zola. In the Swiss Alps. The Howling Commandos left SSR HQ mid-January, 1945 for the mission. They returned one man short, one man lost as a casualty of war. Sergeant James Barnes. Myself. I fell. I remember falling and living in darkness for a very long time, Director,” Bucky stated.

Before Peggy or Peggy’s brother could interrupt, he continued, saying, “A miracle… if you want to call it that, happened from the timeline I am from, Director. I’m not going to explain what it is, but suffice to say, I’m from 1949. I jumped through time because I need your help.”

“Steve is alive?”

Bucky could hear the heartbreak in Peggy’s tone, even if her expression did not show it. He also couldn’t help but notice that there was a wedding band on her ring finger. Peggy was married to someone in this timeline.

“He’s alive,” he confirmed. “For now.”

“For now?” Peggy questioned, the heartbreak no longer in her voice as she seemingly sat up a little straighter – more concerned than anything else.

“He did something stupid,” Bucky said, unable to keep the irritation out of his tone at what Steve had done. “He’s been doused with what apparently should’ve been a lethal amount of radiation, during some experiments with a device the SSR was developing.”

While not entirely the truth, it was a good summary and vague enough to get the point across.

“Peggy, we don’t know how to fix Steve,” Bucky continued. “We have him on IV drip, but his cells – his serum is not healing him. I thought that maybe twenty or so years in the future, there might be a cure – another way to get Steve’s super-soldier serum working again. If you don’t, I’ll just keep going further into the future—”

“Steve’s dead, Bucky,” Peggy broke in, voice trembling slightly. She looked at him with sadness in her eyes before saying, “I don’t know if whatever you used to time-travel is damaged, but Steve’s dead. He… he died shortly after you did, bringing Schmidt’s war bomber down, somewhere over the North Atlantic. He—”

“He was never found. No body recovered, Agent Barnes,” Dr. Carter spoke up.

Bucky saw him lean forward and place a comforting hand over Peggy’s own, before focusing on him. “I think… I think whatever device you used to bring yourself to this point in time transported you to another timeline, Agent. You, along with Captain Rogers, are both dead.”

“If you’re looking for some help to mitigate and ease your timeline’s Captain Rogers’ pain from radiation poisoning, I can try to provide some things. But, if you’re wanting for him to completely heal, I’m sorry, we don’t have a working super-soldier serum. My colleagues and I have only just begun working on a second attempt – and that will take months, if not years. Dr. Erskine’s formula is no easy task to replicate.”

“What about transfusion?” Bucky asked. “Blood transfusion—”

“That may work,” Dr. Carter began, hesitant.

“But the US government here in the timeline, has already blown through their entire stockpile of Steve’s blood,” Peggy finished up, sounding a lot stronger, but still had a remorseful look on her face. “What we have is a single vial of Steve’s blood, for our attempt.”

“That’s not enough for a transfusion,” Dr. Carter stated, shaking his head slightly.

Bucky was hoping that the stockpile of Steve’s blood had not been emptied. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to bring this timeline’s Steve back from wherever he was in the Arctic – he knew he would just be bringing Steve back to heartbreak.

Peggy was married, and he did not want to ruin whatever loving relationship Peggy had forged in her new life without Steve. He was now beginning to understand just how ‘fish out of water’ Steve felt – displaced in time, and with everyone he knew having moved on.

But…

Bucky briefly twiddled his thumbs and fingers for a few moments. Then he reached over and tapped in the pattern to activate Steve’s armor that he had worn while on the run. He dared not use the pure vibranium armor. Not only did not not know the state of that armor after everything it had been through, it didn’t feel right to wear it.

Both Peggy and her younger brother jumped slightly in their seats as the armor bled over him. He didn’t really know how the stones worked, only that he felt an uncomfortable, almost insatiably hungry, otherworldly feeling wash over him. It wasn’t him that felt hungry, but it was something lashing against his mind—

Physical pain accompanied it – crawling up his metal left arm and began to encompass his entire body. Bucky opened his gloved left hand, and found the red Reality Stone glittering up at him.

Somehow, the stones seemed to know what he wanted to do, and responded. It felt… invasive, almost as if Zola and Ivchenko had opened his mind again to violate and pollute his thoughts.

But this was the path he needed to show them. And now he completely understood why Steve was so reluctant to even tell them about himself – his journey through time.

“What I am about to show the two of you cannot leave this room,” he stated, looking up. He closed his left hand over the stone, and a grey, blank cloud seemed to wrap around the three of them.

“Nor, can it be discussed outside of this room,” he continued to say. “There are certain forces at work that we discovered in my timeline, that may or may not exist here. Do I have your word?”

“Yes,” Peggy stated, nodding once.

“Yes, but I have one concern before you show us whatever you’re going to,” Dr. Carter answered, frowning. Bucky waited for the young man to continue.

“If I may?” the doctor asked, reaching towards his forehead with the back of his right hand.

Bucky shook his head, and Dr. Carter dropped his hand, sitting back in his seat. It was clear that the doctor had suspicions about the gamma radiation.

“Low level gamma radiation,” he said, internally wincing that he was openly lying in the same exact way Steve had done to him and the others. “My serum can handle it.”

“As my analysis had shown,” Dr. Carter said, nodding once. “And yes, I will adhere to your requests, Agent Barnes.”

“The miracle that I had talked about earlier,” Bucky began. “Was Steve being alive in my timeline. This is how he achieved it.”

Silently and without comment, Bucky showed them his memories of the night that Steve revealed where he had come from. A memory within a memory. It was not much, and certainly would leave both Peggy and her brother puzzled, but Bucky felt that it was enough to get the point across.

As soon as it was done, Bucky felt the hunger from the Reality Stone recede. The pain that encompassed his body also slowly died away, leaving an uncomfortable ache that felt like he had fallen ill.

“Is that Michael? Is that what he looked...how he acted and behaved?” Dr. Carter hesitatingly asked. “Our brother?”

“Yes,” Peggy said, nearly whispering her answer.

“Steve’s alive in this timeline,” Bucky quietly stated. “Steve in my timeline, he and his compatriots came here to borrow SHIELD’s Tesseract. I have what’s left of it in my possession, and I will return it to you under one condition.”

“You want Steve’s blood?” Peggy began, sounding horrified at the same time a little angry. “You want SHIELD to find him in the Arctic – when we’ve been trying for years upon years to do so—”

“No,” Bucky interrupted, a little angry that Peggy would think of him so merciless.

“No,” he repeated this time a little more softly. “I have a better sense of where Steve may be, with what I know,” he explained. “I’ll go find him, and bring him home. My condition in returning what remains of the Tesseract is the removal of Dr. Arnim Zola from SHIELD. His execution, if you can even swing it – for war crimes committed during and _after_ the war.”

“Dr. Zola—” Peggy began.

“Don’t give me the official bullshit, Peggy,” Bucky bit out. “I know the SSR recruited him via Operation Paperclip. I know that the US wanted his knowledge – that they put greed over humanity. What the US, what the SSR and even SHIELD don’t know is that he’s been rebuilding HYDRA from the inside of this place.”

“What?”

Both Peggy and her brother had stated at in the same incredulous tone. As much as Bucky had not wanted to become overly involved, he knew that he had committed to this path once he had shown them the memory. There was no turning back now – not if he was going to make sure Peggy, Dr. Carter, Steve, and not only himself as Soviet asset named Winter Soldier, but also Michael, survive.

“There’s an operation in Bucharest happening in the next few days,” he began, focusing his attention on Peggy. “That operation is to recruit a possible Soviet defector who has access to Soviet leadership. General Nicolai Krylenko. Your flight leaves at 04:35 from the flight field just outside of Camp Lehigh. You land in London and catch another flight to Berlin that leaves at 20:04 local time. From Berlin, agents are positioned at the various checkpoints to sneak you—”

“Stop,” Peggy hoarsely said.

“That’s classified—” Dr. Carter began, startled.

“It’s not,” Bucky said, turning his attention slightly towards the young man. He retracted his armor and unbuttoned a couple of buttons on this collared shirt.

Pulling out the folder that contained Tony’s letter and the glass pane of data, he placed it on the edge of Peggy’s desk. As he buttoned up his shirt again, he saw Peggy reach forward to draw the folder towards her. She yelped as she touched the folder, and quickly drew back her hand.

“It’s been coded to my prints and alpha-numeric passcode,” he stated, taking the folder and placed it on his lap for the moment. “It’s from 2012, where the tech is more advanced than anything else I’ve seen.”

“2012?” Peggy questioned.

“I was helping Steve return the stones to various points in time, when he did the stupid thing with the radiation,” Bucky said, running his hand along the seam, and opened the folder. He took the rectangular object out and ungloved his left hand.

“Your hand…” Dr. Carter began.

Bucky ignored the sympathetic statement as he pressed both thumbs to the rectangle and then quickly input the alpha-numeric passcode that was hidden behind the star-like characters.

Pulling up the appropriate file, he placed the object on the edge of Peggy’s desk again, and let the projection showing at their eye level speak for itself. It was completely in Russian, and it was word-for-word, what he had just stated to Peggy before being told to stop.

“W-what is this?” Peggy asked, horrified. “Where did this—”

“Cut off one head, and two more will grow,” Bucky softly stated. “Dr. Zola and his associates within SHIELD have cultivated contacts and small cells all over the world in these past years since the end of the war. Several of those cells are within the Soviet Union. They know you’re coming, Peggy.”

Thankfully, he knew Peggy was not the sort of panic and immediately call off the mission. Neither, did it seem Dr. Carter was either. The young man was not panicking at all, but was frowning at what was projected.

“Who are they sending to intercept?” Peggy asked.

As tempted as Bucky was to show her further details about the mission report he had perused, he didn’t. Instead, he narrowed his eyes slightly at Peggy before sitting back in his seat.

She was carefully watching him. Though Bucky could not discern any ill intent from her, he was rather curious as to why she was now scrutinizing him.

“Hmmm,” she hummed after a few minutes. “You’re not as arrogant as I thought you were, Bucky,” she said. “Deliberately showing up in Dr. Pym’s laboratory, then saying all of that, even showing us your fantastical proof. You don’t have a concrete plan, but you’re not arrogant enough to change things so drastically in this timeline.”

“All I want is to save Steve, my timeline’s Steve,” Bucky quietly answered. “I was hoping that the stockpile was still plenty. That was the extent of my plan, Pegs.”

“And we’ve forced your hand,” Peggy agreed. “Twice now. You gave in to the first, but you’re unwilling to give in to the second. Why?”

“Because if I show you the rest, it could potentially cause so many to lose their lives. Alter the course of your timeline’s history forever. You have enough to begin hunting down HYDRA operatives within SHIELD,” Bucky carefully answered.

“Yes, but no proof to charge Dr. Zola of war crimes _after_ the war,” Peggy pointed out.

“Are you sure you want to do this, Peggy?” Bucky asked after a few moments of uncomfortable silence.

“Do have no other proof to show?” she asked.

Bucky shook his head.

“Then we’ll have to take the risk,” she answered. “Please show me who the Soviets will be sending to intercept this mission in Bucharest.”

“The assassin sent to kill Krylenko is code-named the Winter Soldier,” Bucky began.

“That… can’t be right,” Dr. Carter said, giving both of them a puzzled look. “MI-6… they said this Winter Soldier person is a ghost story. Doesn’t exist—”

“He exists,” both Bucky and Peggy stated at the same time.

“And he will… he did succeed in assassinating Krylenko,” he quietly followed up after a moment.

Bucky mentally braced himself and flipped to the next report in the file on the Bucharest mission. It was a full write-up in Russian by the Winter Soldier’s handler on what happened at what exact time the assassination took place place. In the upper corner of the report was a small photograph of the Winter Soldier in cryo—

“Dear God,” he heard Peggy gasp, eyes flickering back and forth from him and to the picture. “Bucky—”

“The Winter Soldier will be indirectly assisted by the team known as Winter Guard,” Bucky continued, but did not flip to the next page in the report just yet. “The Winter Guard’s primary objective is… was to quietly take out every SHIELD agent stationed around the meeting point – except for Director Margaret Carter. To allow the Winter Soldier unfettered access to kill his target with no collateral damage. They are led by the Soviet operative code-named Wolf Spider.”

He flipped the page, and fell silent. The report was again, in Russian, but the photographs accompanying the report were of the five Soviet operatives he remembered seeing in Steve’s memories. Except for one of the five – Michael, the operative who had the other code-name of Wolf Spider.

Bucharest was the only report he had received and read about that had _**both** _ the Winter Soldier and Wolf Spider working ‘together’. It was also the only operation that Peggy had caught a glimpse of her brother before the mission commenced – nearly derailing the Soviet side of things.

“No...” Peggy’s voice cracked in anguish on that one word. “Why… how?”

“The Soviets… they found me… him,” Bucky began, knowing that he owed Peggy a straightforward explanation for all the grief and hurt he was causing both her and her brother.

“They found him in the Alps after the fall. They re-captured Michael in Prague a few days before VE Day. After Zola was captured, he was sent to an isolated ‘prison’ in the Bering Sea. His contacts brought both myself… him, and Michael to there. Dr. Ivchenko was there was well. They stripped the Winter Soldier of his memories, and they re-conditioned Michael as well – turning both into the Soviets’ weapons. Ivchenko and Zola delivered their results to the Soviets before being recruited into the SSR… into SHIELD.”

Bucky fell silent for a brief moment, before saying, “It may be safe to say that Zola and Ivchenko’s techniques were extended and applied to the others of the Winter Guard. That unit is HYDRA’s most elite combat force. Between themselves alone, they speak more than thirty languages, and can topple regimes overnight. But, Bucharest is.. was the only mission that I know of, that had the Winter Guard and Winter Soldier working in concert to stop SHIELD from getting their hands on General Krylenko.”

It was the scrape of Dr. Carter’s chair that shattered the silence that filled the air. “Where are you—” Peggy began, as Bucky immediately reached out and forcibly grabbed the doctor’s arm to prevent him from leaving.

“The fucker needs to pay,” Dr. Carter spat out, eyes blazing with cold rage. “That’s not just war crimes. That’s inhumane—”

“He will pay, Alex,” Peggy coldly stated. “Sit.”

Bucky couldn’t help feel a slight shiver crawl down his spine at her words. But it seemed Peggy’s words were enough to break through the haze of anger that enveloped the young doctor. He let go a moment later and Dr. Carter returned to his seat.

“Steve… your timeline hopping Steve,” Peggy began, glancing up at the file again for a brief second. “He intercepted you and Michael, using similar information, didn’t he?”

Bucky inclined his head briefly. “He did,” he confirmed. “Freed both of us from a fate worse than death. I owe him my life.”

“But you specifically said that Zola and Ivchenko… they re-conditioned Michael? Was he…”

“I don’t know,” Bucky admitted, understanding that Peggy was beginning to get a vague sense of the possibility of the Wolf Spider existing as early as the war.

“That’s also why I came here to return your Tesseract,” he said. “I don’t know if Michael of my reality, my timeline is still the Wolf Spider… still an unwitting Soviet spy. I can’t take that risk with the Infinity Stones, especially with Steve’s current physical condition.”

Peggy remained silent. Bucky saw her fold her hands together and rest her chin upon them. There was a pensive look on her face as she considered her options. A few minutes later, she looked back up at the file, before reaching forward to flip the page back to the report on the Winter Soldier’s Bucharest activities.

“You take those six out, Peggy… it will change the course of the entire world,” Bucky carefully warned.

There was a glint in her eyes that made him uneasy as it inspired him at the same time. “And you’re going to help me, Agent Barnes.”

~*~*~*~


	22. Stasis – Part 3 – 1970

**Chapter 17: Stasis – Part 3 – 1970**

It was dangerous, foolhardy, and downright mad, but Bucky knew that he shouldn’t have expected less from Peggy Carter. Nor should he had expected her to take a more cautious route after what he had shown her.

The only difference – besides gender – between her and Steve was the fact that she was not a super-soldier. While not identical in how either made tactical and strategic plans, Bucky had to admit to himself that seeing Peggy Carter plan for a massive change in her original mission parameters, was inspiring.

Especially since this change could quite possibly end the Cold War _**and**_ HYDRA’s existence in less than a decade.

Howard had been brought into the fold after Peggy and Dr. Carter – Alex, the doctor had insisted Bucky call him – had found out about his fate. Bucky had to tell them about Howard’s fate – to warn them that it was more than just HYDRA who was interested in the re-creation of the super-soldier formula.

By the same token, as curious as Peggy and Alex were about their own, Bucky refused to divulge the information. All he had told them was that what the four of them were about to do would change many other fates, including their own.

It was overly dramatic, similar to something Steve would say, but Bucky could find no other words to describe it.

Howard’s initial briefing was similar to all others within the facility who had gotten wind of a 0-8-4 incarnation of ‘Captain America’ appearing. Pure curiosity had driven the inventor go to find him. Then, a disregard for protocol that had Bucky being on the receiving end of a rather fierce bear-hug from Howard.

Bucky hadn’t need to fake his embarrassment or exasperation at Howard’s antics. By the time Howard showed up, Peggy was already well on her way to Bucharest, via London and Berlin. It was up to both him and Alex to brief Howard on the situation and plan – Alex more so than him.

Being a rather benign 0-8-4, along with being cleared of being a biological contaminant, had allowed Bucky some freedom in wandering the halls of SHIELD. Of course, there was the initial clamor from the Joint Chiefs of Staff and World Council, both of whom wanted to speak to the unexpected ‘Captain America’ from another reality.

Peggy had left orders stating that no such meeting or arrangements of a meeting without her present, would happen – until she returned. It gave Bucky the freedom to move around, albeit he still had an escort. She had also emphasized a fair warning to the rest of SHIELD that even though ‘Captain America’ had returned – Bucky was not this reality’s Captain America.

Bucky didn’t bother to correct assumptions about being ‘Captain America’. It was a lie that he took refuge in – to allow himself some protecting from SHIELD, and HYDRA operatives within. Only Howard, Alex, and Peggy knew what little he had shown them of his mission, and what was about to happen in this point in time for this timeline.

Instead, to keep at least a few more curious departments occupied, Peggy had also issued orders to have them search for ways to ‘return Captain America’ to his reality. Peggy had never questioned how exactly he had gotten here, but he saw the glimmer of suspicion that his landing in Dr. Pym’s lab was not just to cause a scene.

At present, Bucky was taking a break in his temporary quarter. He was quartered somewhere a little less cell-like – but no less observational. Two cameras were still present, but there were considerably less bugs in the room. He was a little grateful that there were also no bugs in the tiny adjacent bathroom.

The knock on the door was somewhat expected. With all that was going on outside of his quarter, he barely heard the footsteps approaching. But, he could not discern who it was, at his door.

Pulling the towel off his face, he stepped out of the tiny bathroom and said, “Enter.”

The door opened, letting a wave of chatter and noise from the outside flood in. Alex stepped in, carrying two black duffel bags with him. The bag that he extended forward towards him didn’t looked to be stuffed with things, but neither did it seem empty.

Alex’s appearance meant that it was time to go and carry out the change in Peggy’s mission.

At the present, there was a slightly sheepish smile on Alex’s face that sent a slight pang rolling through Bucky. That expression was so similar to what he remembered seeing on Michael’s expression several times during the war. Especially when the two of them were still warily and new, but somewhat hopeful for a good outcome in their complicated relationship.

As soon as Alex closed the door, the doctor apologized, saying, “Sorry, were you—”

“Nah, Doc,” Bucky said, shaking his head as he stepped over to hang the towel up. “Just needed to splash water on tired eyes.”

“I’ll say,” Alex answered, laughing a little at the fact that Bucky called him ‘Doc’.

Bucky made no comment to that; it was a part of the ‘personality’ he had carved as a partial cover story. He had been ‘escorted’ by several department heads and shown around SHIELD in a whirlwind tour since ‘waking up’ this morning. It felt slightly disconcerting that everyone in the facility seemed to be in livelier spirits with just the mere presence of ‘Captain America’.

The Cold War in 1970 – while it inspired scores of people to push themselves to the limits and beyond, Bucky could see that the moral compass that guided not only the US, but the world, had been thrown off-center. Peggy’s willingness to induce a drastic change – and draft him into it – in the course of history was certainly an example that he was willing to point to.

But his willingness to stop Peggy was almost non-existent. He wanted as much change to this reality as she did – and he knew it was for selfish reasons. Primarily, it was to not let himself continue to be used as a tool of mass destruction in the hands of the Soviets – or the US.

His timeline, his reality’s Cold War was just beginning. Could Steve’s presence merely change so much? Bring out the best in people? Bucky didn’t know.

“Well, I think you’ll be grateful to hear that Howard has arrived with his airplane in the field,” Alex continued. “I’ve brought you some changes of clothes from Supply for the trip.”

“Coming with me, Doc?” Bucky asked for the sake of the bugs, while taking the proffered bag.

He angled his body enough so that his back was obscuring one of the cameras, and by virtue of where Alex was standing, the young doctor was obscuring the other. Opening the bag just so, he grimly smiled at the contents within, before zipping it back up.

“It’s Howard Stark, and no matter how much of a genius he is, the health and safety of the people at SHIELD is my priority. Yours a little more so than others, for now,” Alex stated.

“I hope you don’t mind me being your escort while not on base. Your files look clear of being a hazard to us,” Alex continued after a moment, “but should anything happen while you’re with Howard—”

“I understand,” Bucky cut in, nodding once to make sure the cameras recorded the words and action. “Thanks.”

Had Bucky not known that Alex was twenty-one, nearly twenty-two years of age, nor spoken to him in Peggy’s office, or known a little of his career thus far, he could have sworn the words sounded just like a doddering old doctor.

“Guess Howard Stark in any reality is a bit of…”

“A menace? Most likely so,” Alex agreed, and opened the door.

Bucky activated the armor he had been wearing, but did not activate the helmet. He stepped out into the cacophony – mentally wincing that he should have been more sympathetic to Steve and Steve’s distaste for the public eye, during the war.

Following the doctor, he merely nodded towards those he passed, and kept as pleasant of an expression as possible on his face. More than a few SHIELD personnel he had seen in the halls earlier still paused and watched him walk by. Bucky endured it—

“Ah, so this is the 0-8-4 Captain America.”

It was a voice that both angered and chilled him, as much as it brought horrific memories to the forefront. Yet, Arnim Zola’s voice had not issued up from behind him, but in front of him.

SHIELD agents and military personnel crowded in the halls alike, seemingly parted as if Zola’s presence merely demanded they stood at least a foot, if not more away from the man. Bucky stopped where he was, unable to move – frozen in time—

“ _It will grow, Sergeant,” Zola stated, giving him another unkind smile. “The seedling of a new HYDRA reborn. The beautiful parasite that you will help birth with your own two hands, when we are done.”_

“This is Dr. Arnim Zola, Agent Barnes,” Alex stated, almost belatedly.

Bucky heard the clear stiffness in his tone. It was clear that the doctor had not expected Zola to show up. He also saw the barely held-back disgust begin to creep over the calm that Alex was fighting to keep—

“Dr. Zola,” Bucky greeted in a calm tone, taking a step forward – in front of Alex to cover the control he was losing. Violently clamping down on his own disgust, revulsion, and want to not interact at all, Bucky stuck a hand forward.

“Pleasure to meet you, sir,” he said, forcing himself to say it in a pleasant tone. “I’ve heard a lot about you and your work.”

For a few seconds, Bucky’s words were enough to surprise and disarm Zola of whatever cruel thoughts he had. Yet, it didn’t stop Zola’s eyes roaming around him that made him feel ever more violated.

Bucky didn’t so much advert his eyes from Zola. Instead, he took that moment, to glance around. Thankfully, his eyes caught Howard hurrying his way down the hall towards them.

“Ah, yes,” Zola recovered, and clasped his hand against Bucky’s gloved right hand. Niceties had to be met in public.

As much as Bucky wanted to squeeze Zola’s hand until bones broke, he didn’t. He applied just enough pressure for a tiny flash of pain to appear in the scientist’s eyes. Throwing his best ‘Steve’s fake grin for the sake of the press photographers’ at Zola, he then let go.

“I wish I could stay and talk with you, but I see an old friend – well, I suppose not quite my old friend from my reality – coming down our way—”

“As I live and die, we meet again James Barnes!” Howard’s exclamation cut into Bucky’s excuse – right on cue.

Either Howard had heard the full story from Alex, or the inventor just didn’t care too much for Zola – Howard shove himself right in between Bucky and the scientist. Bucky felt himself being clapped on the shoulders, before being pulled into yet another hearty embrace.

His slight confusion was not entirely faked, as he managed to choke out, “Erm… good to see you too, again, Stark? We did meet this morning…”

“Sorry, sorry,” Howard apologized, letting him go and took a step back.

That forced Zola to step to the side, looking indignant and quite annoyed. It didn’t escape Bucky’s notice that some of the civilians and MP lingering around had amused looks in response to Howard’s antics.

Fortunately, neither Alex or he had to linger in Zola’s presence any longer, as Howard immediately looped an arm around his shoulders, saying, “I keep forgetting that you aren’t… well… you aren’t…”

“Yeah,” Bucky finished up. “Guess I am truly dead in this world. Sorry for your loss, Stark.”

Howard remained silent, but he did begin to push him towards the entrance. Alex followed, and a few seconds later, in a more upbeat tone, Bucky heard Howard exclaim, “Well, let’s try to find a way to get you home then. Let SHIELD do what they do best to keep the rest of us safe, and let me do what I do best. Once we get you squared away, I’ll have you back here in no time.”

“Sure thing,” Bucky answered, relieved.

He could feel the detestable curious eyes of Zola on his back as he went with Howard and Alex. But for now, Zola did not pose too terrible a threat – and it seemed that the scientist had brought the simple story spun in the halls. That he, Agent James Barnes of the SSR, was his reality’s Captain America, and remained completely ignorant of what Zola had done during and after the war.

It was only when he, along with Howard and Alex got onto the private airplane parked in the adjacent field, that Bucky allowed the sigh of complete relief and tension bleed from him. Howard went straight into the cockpit, and a few minutes later, the airplane began to taxi.

As Bucky sat on the rather uncomfortable jump seat near the fuselage’s closed door, Alex had taken the seat opposite of him. Closing his eyes for a brief moment, he felt the airplane begin to move and taxi to the runway.

It was a light thing tapping the side of his right arm that had him opening his eyes again. Alex was shaking a headset at him, before gesturing to the one hanging near him.

Bucky reached up and took his headset down, placing it over his ears. At once, the engine noise of the rather spartan-looking aircraft became muffled. He could only surmise that Howard had either converted his private airplane for cargo use, or was rich enough to afford both a cargo aircraft and a private one.

“Gonna be all right?” he heard Alex ask through the headset, after the doctor returned to his seat.

Bucky didn’t get to answer as movement out of the corner of his eyes had him turning to see Howard passing between the cockpit door and into the cargo hold. Bucky caught a glimpse of Jarvis – older now – sitting in the co-pilot’s seat and flying the aircraft.

He waited until Howard placed his own headset on, before answering Alex’s question, “Didn’t think I’d be able to get away with murder in front of all those people.”

To his slight surprise, he saw the doctor casually shrug before saying, “You’d be surprise at what can be passed for an excuse if all of them saw you clobber Zola into the wall. Psychotropic drugs in the water, for instance. Mass hallucinations. SHIELD personnel have witnessed stranger things than simple murder.”

Though Bucky knew that the doctor was saying some of it half in jest, the illusion-like lie that easily fell out of Alex’s lips chilled him slightly. Alex did not know just how close he was to the truth of what Bucky could have done. Bucky could have easily used the Reality stone right then and there to have masked him murdering Zola, and dragging his body off for disposal.

No one would have been the wiser.

Worse yet, Bucky had _felt_ the ghost of the Reality Stone’s hunger lash at his mind.

“Goddamn, I wish I had known!” Howard’s vehement exclamation startled him slightly. There was anger, along with pain and guilt displayed clearly on the inventor’s face, as he began pacing back and forth – almost snapping his headset’s cord. “How could I have been so—”

“Stark,” Bucky said, standing up and going over to the inventor. He placed a calming hand on Howard’s shoulder. “Hey, Stark.”

Howard immediately stopped his pacing. But far be it the man actually stopped his movements to listen to him. Bucky stepped back, letting Howard go, as he saw him scrub his face for a few moments.

“God...” Howard began. “Tell me that bastard is dead in your reality? Tell me I didn’t make the same damn mistake of agreeing to work with him – after everything?”

“Zola is dead,” Bucky solemnly stated.

“Firing squad?” Alex asked in a hopeful tone from where he was sitting, watching the exchange.

“Blew himself up,” Bucky answered. “But that’s another story for later. We’re good to go, Stark?”

“Yeah. I’ll have everything ready by the time Peggy’s mission is underway,” Howard answered, nodding once. “Just… God…”

“One step at a time, Stark,” Bucky stated, partially marveling at how easy it was to sound almost as reassuring as Steve – especially while wearing the uniform.

“You almost sounded like Steve for a moment there,” Howard said, giving him a slightly uncertain smile.

“That punk has a bad way of rubbing off on all of us, Stark. You should know that as well as I… or at least my counterpart here, does,” Bucky answered, and removed his headset before Howard could make any further remarks.

Picking up his bag, he walked over to the far end of the airplane. Setting the bag down, the Captain America uniform bled back into the time-jump bangle, leaving him dressed in the collared shirt, pant, and shoes he had worn underneath.

He quickly stripped out of his clothes, careful to not drop the folder with the 2012 information within. Bucky unzipped the duffle bag and pulled out the disguise that Peggy had packed for him, and quickly put it on.

Wearing his old 1940’s clothes under the disguise could not be done – especially with just how dangerous this infiltration was. Bucky only risked carrying the time-jump bangle and folder of 2012 information with him, only because it was too dangerous to leave it with Howard.

Tugging the gloves over his hands, it was only when he placed the folded pile of clothes and shoes near Howard that he saw that both Howard and Alex had turned away from where they had been. Both had given him a semblance of privacy to change – something that Bucky wasn’t quite used to.

Neither could hear him over the engine noise, and thus, Bucky patted both on their shoulders to indicate that he was done changing. A few seconds later, Alex then placed his badge, along with a couple of other things on top of the clothes pile. His white laboratory jacket was still on, but he had placed a dirty-blond wig over his brown hair, and now sported glasses.

Bucky silently gestured towards the wig – it was slightly askew and wild looking. As if it were Alex’s first time putting on a wig. He surmised that given what he could discern about Alex, the doctor most likely had never been trained as a field agent, much less spy.

Alex silently nodded his assent, and Bucky carefully adjusted the wig so it sat correctly and naturally on Alex’s head. As he expected, Alex tried to reach up to scratch his itchy scalp. Bucky silently intercepted the doctor’s hand, wrapping his right hand around the doctor’s own, and shook his head.

He let go and stepped back towards the rear of the aircraft. Bucky was not quite happy in going on a mission with a completely untrained person, but there was no other within SHIELD he or Peggy could trust. And Bucky knew that his portion of the mission needed a second person with possible medical knowledge to assist.

Howard was definitely needed here to continue the cover story of the ‘great Howard Stark trying to find a safe and secure way of sending a wayward Captain America home’. Not that SHIELD’s other scientists and engineers were not smart in that aspect.

It seemed to Bucky that Howard had cashed in on some enormous favor that both SHIELD and the World Council had owed him. That favor was to allow Howard Stark a few days of peace and quiet to work on this ‘displaced from another reality Captain America problem’.

And Bucky was glad that Peggy was as determined as he was to take advantage of those ‘few days of peace and quiet’ to upend and abscond with six Soviet assets, and General Krylenko. Bucky also hoped that those few days would also allow him to retrieve Steve from wherever he was in the Arctic—

But it was as he said to Howard minutes earlier: one day at a time.

Tapping the pattern to activate the armor, it bled over his disguise, as Alex stepped up, staring at the effect in fascination. Howard was staring at him as well, but there was also a slightly nervousness about him – worry.

There was nothing Bucky could say to ease that worry – and he was not wont to do so. He was not Steve, even if some of Steve’s tendencies as Captain America seemed easier for him to channel while in uniform. Completing the mission was the only way to ease worried thoughts.

As soon as the uniform was complete, he glanced over at Alex. There was some nervousness in the young man’s eyes, but Bucky received a nod of confidence from him. Alex placing his hand on his right forearm indicated his readiness to be transported.

The Space Stone slipped into Bucky’s left hand before he could complete his thoughts. He felt a strange sensation of cold not enveloping him, but stabbing into his mind like tiny ice pricks. It felt almost like going into cryo—

Bucky coughed and stumbled ever so slightly forward as the blue-black cloud that surrounded them disappeared. Beside him, Alex had stumbled as well, but didn’t fall as Bucky felt the pressure on his forearm increase for a few moments with Alex partially using him as an anchor.

Still, he deactivated the armor, as he glanced around. The countryside where they had landed had changed from what he remembered, but he was glad that he hadn’t transported the two of them with the Tesseract into a wall or anything—

Bucky glanced down and then over, as he realized that Alex still kept a firm grip on his right arm – except that that grip had shifted to rest between his gloved hand and sleeve cuff of his disguise. The moment his eyes landed on Alex’s hand, he realized what the doctor was doing by taking his temperature—

And before Bucky could say a word about the fact that using the Tesseract in that brief instant was nothing he couldn’t handle, Alex let go. Bucky looked away, feeling guilty that he had _almost_ said another of the same lies that Steve had said about the Infinity Stones.

“Where are we?” Alex asked instead.

“Just outside of Budapest,” Bucky answered.

He decided to let the matter of his usage of the Infinity Stones rest without addressing it. Alex was much too inquisitive for his own damn good, but Bucky recognized the same signs of worry that he himself had displayed whenever Steve used the stones.

There was nothing he could say or do to assuage the young doctor of his apparent low level radiation absorption. Alex already knew about the limits to which a super-soldier serum could withstand radiation.

“One of my missions for the SSR had me traveling through here,” he stated, setting off down the thankfully empty road. “It’s changed a bit, but it’s the closest I’m daring to transport us. Come on, we’re going to have to steal a car. It’s about a 10 hour drive to Bucharest, and we’re going through as much of the back roads as possible to avoid the checkpoints between here and there.”

* * *

_Hours later… on the road to Bucharest…_

“Come on, out with it.”

It wasn’t so much that Bucky was trying to keep Alex up in the middle of the night – the young doctor looked as alert as he did. It was more that even with most of back roads they were taking, they had not even hit one checkpoint yet. Bucky would have thought that perhaps one or two would have been set up on these back roads.

They had been driving for over five hours, and there was none to be had.

“Pardon?” Alex questioned, glancing over.

“Out with it,” Bucky repeated, flicking his eyes over for a moment. It was the middle of the night, and only the faint moonlight and reflected light from the car’s headlights shone through.

“You looked like you wanted to ask me something since I transported us here,” he continued. “What is it? If it’s about the Tesseract, I’m not answering it. I don’t know how it works, it just does.”

“Your hand… your arm,” Alex began. “I couldn’t help but notice while you were changing. And I remember the rumors MI-6 fielded about the Winter Soldier – that he had a silver left arm emblazoned with a blood red star. Zola or this Ivchenko guy you mentioned grafted it, didn’t they?”

Bucky’s right hand tightened on the wheel. But he managed to keep himself calm enough to not crush the wheel with his right hand. He glanced down to see that his left hand had tightened into a fist. An audible whine was spooling up—

“Sorry,” Alex’s sincere apology snapped Bucky out of his fugue. “I shouldn’t have—”

“Zola,” Bucky ground out, forcing himself to say the name. “It was Zola. Ivchenko was the one who manipulated my memories. Michael’s memories. Everything.”

“There wasn’t much in Ivchenko’s files from the old SSR reports,” Alex admitted. “Only that he was in possession of a strange ring, and that he was the handler for a Soviet agent named Dottie Underwood. There’s nothing on him in the files after he was captured by the SSR in an attempt to frame Howard for the mass murder of millions in New York.”

“Alex, I don’t know what the state of your brother will be in, when we intercept him and the rest of the Winter Guard,” Bucky stated after a few minutes of silence. “I might have to hurt—”

“I know,” the doctor answered. “But at least he’ll finally be home. You… well, the other you, and Captain Rogers, as well. When all of this is over.”

Bucky remained silent. He knew that there was a good chance that he would have to not only fight himself, but possibly kill some of the Winter Guard in order to bring at least Michael home. Yet, he didn’t know what to do when it came to undoing whatever Zola and Ivchenko had done to create the Winter Soldier, much less Michael as the Wolf Spider.

“Agent Barnes—” Alex began after a few minutes of uncomfortable silence.

“Bucky,” Bucky interrupted. “Friends call me that.”

“Bucky,” Alex began again. “Thank you.”

Bucky glanced over to see a faint smile quirk up the edges of the doctor’s lips. It was the same kind of faint, shy smile he remembered seeing Peggy give Steve, whenever Steve’s attention had been elsewhere, but was sliding towards her.

However, Bucky’s attention was quickly drawn back onto the road, as they crested a ridge over a hill. Below was what looked to be a two-man checkpoint. The first and only one he had seen thus far—

“Don’t thank me just yet, Alex,” he said, slowing the car down as the two officers on duty stepped out of their guard house. “Let me do the talking.”

Alex silently nodded. As soon as Bucky pulled to a stop in front of the bar, he rolled down his window and waited for one of the officers to approach.

“< _Papers and turn off your car, please._ >” the guard ordered in Russian.

Bucky obeyed, and reached over to where the ‘papers’ had been stuffed. Affecting a nonchalant look, he handed it over to the officer, who took it.

At the same time, his eyes quickly flicked towards the other guard. The other guard was approaching the other side of the car, hands resting seemingly casually on his rifle.

“< _We do not receive many officers through here. Purpose of your travels on the back roads, Lieutenant Rostov?_ >”

“< _It’s faster to get to my destination, than the main roads._ >” Bucky answered.

“< _To…_ _deliver…_ _a Dr. Wieczorek_ _to Bucharest?_ >” the officer questioned.

“< _Wieczorek?_ >” the other officer questioned, looking slightly surprised, before Bucky saw him crouch down next to Alex’s window. The officer tapped it, while saying, “< _Let me try my Polish on you, Doctor._ >”

Ice bloomed in Bucky’s stomach as Alex hesitatingly began to roll down his window. Neither of them could afford to be seen disobeying orders – even if Alex did not understand or speak Russian or Polish.

“< _You are delaying us, officer._ >” Bucky interrupted, putting some anger in his tone to mask his unease. “< _These orders come from Department X, from Colonel Lukin—_ >”

“< _And I shall confirm those orders._ >” the officer on Bucky’s side cut in. “< _Please step out and follow me, Lieutenant. Ivanov, the good doctor._ >”

Bucky forced himself to be calm as he nodded once towards Alex, hoping it was enough to convey that the young doctor was to do nothing and say nothing to compromise them. Getting out of the car, he closed the door and silently followed the officer. He could feel the metaphorical eyes of the officer following him – along with the barrel of the officer’s rifle.

When they got to the guard house, the officer gestured with the barrel of his unholstered pistol, to go in first. Bucky did so. As soon as he heard the guard fully enter and press the pistol into his back, he struck.

Bucky whipped his left arm back, socking his metal elbow into the officer’s gut, while his hand simultaneously curled around the pistol. The discharge of the bullet was barely heard, and barely felt as it impacted against Bucky’s left hand.

Not a split second later, as he whirled around, crushing the pistol, along with the fingers of the officer’s hand that held the gun, he brought up his right arm. He hooked it around the folded officer’s neck. Even before the officer could scream, Bucky wrenched his arm – nearly his whole body – to the side – hard.

The snap of the officer’s neck seemed to echo within the small guard house. But, Bucky was already dropping the body to the ground, as he hurried out. He had to get to the other guard—

Bucky blinked as the faint orange light of the lone street lamp shining down on the checkpoint yielded an unexpected sight. The other officer was writhing against the passenger door – head within the passenger side, and neck pressed against the window frame.

He skidded to a halt, just as he saw Alex forcibly wrench the officer’s neck against the frame. The snap of the officer’s neck was quite audible, as Alex let go and Bucky saw the body slump to the ground.

“You’re a doctor,” Bucky couldn’t help but dumbly state, glancing between the dead body and Alex, who was rubbing his arms for a brief moment.

“I have bad days,” Alex quietly answered, glancing up at him, eyes unreadable.

Bucky didn’t press the issue. There was much that needed to be done to clean up this mess at the checkpoint – and hope that they didn’t encounter any others before they got to Bucharest. The night was also running away from them, and he hoped that they could get to the safe house before dawn.

“Help me strip the bodies,” he began, dragging the officer away from the door.

“Will do.”

* * *

_La_ _ter,_ _at the_ _SHIELD_ _Safe_ _H_ _ouse_ _in_ _Bucharest…_

There had been no explanation needed, when Peggy had seen the state that Bucky and Alex arrived in. There was a haunted look in Alex’s eyes that she recognized all too well. The two had run into a checkpoint, and in the spinning of the cover story, something had gone awry.

She had immediately sent Alex to the bathroom first to get himself cleaned up, while Bucky detailed to her what exactly had happened at the checkpoint. In the end, she had to thank her lucky stars that the alarm had not been raised.

They might still make it out of Bucharest with the changed parameters intact.

Bucky had then went to go clean himself up after Alex emerged, looking a more relieved. Peggy was the last. She had directed Bucky towards the table where the latest maps and reports. She had received them from other undercover agents within the city – and she was sure Bucky would want to know the most up-to-date information.

At the present, she emerged from the bathroom, and peeked out into the tiny living room—

“James,” Peggy sighed, as she took one look into the room.

Bucky was wearing nothing but the loose black combat trousers of his second disguise, boots, and white sleeveless undershirt that did nothing to hide his gorgeous muscular physique. Nor did it hide the puckered scars of where his metal left arm had been grafted to him.

“What, Pegs?” Bucky questioned, sounding as annoyed as she felt.

Peggy rolled her eyes and snatched the black t-shirt off the dresser. She went over and shoved it directly into the center of Bucky’s chest.

“Stop being a visual distraction,” she stated, and let the shirt go.

As she rounded the table to return to the bathroom, silence answered her annoyed comment. Out of the corner of her eyes, she had seen Bucky scramble to curl his hands around the shirt.

She glanced over towards where Alex was sitting. She saw him immediately glance away from her while raising the book he had been reading a little higher to cover his slightly flushed face.

Yet, she didn’t call her brother out of his voyeurism. It was as amusing as it was a cautionary tale for her, where her younger brother was concerned. She didn’t want him within SHIELD, but she did not have the authority to overrule the World Council on their decision to recruit him.

Bucky was not of this world or timeline. If anything that she had seen and heard from Bucky a little over 48 hours before were anything to say – he could very well break Alex’s heart with one simple look or action.

There was also the matter of false presumptions and identities. The James Barnes of this timeline – the Winter Soldier – could be someone completely different. Especially if what this timeline hopping Bucky was telling the truth about what Zola and apparently, Ivchenko, had done.

Just as Peggy reached the bathroom, she heard Bucky sarcastically and teasingly retort, “Didn’t realize you ever saw me like that, Peggy.”

“Never did,” she answered in as stinging of a tone as he had, before disappearing around the corner and into the bathroom.

_But that doesn’t mean, I never appreciated the view._

As Peggy continued to towel herself dry and change into something more appropriate, she couldn’t help but silently chuckle to herself. To be twenty-five years younger again – and to be reminded of the more relaxing times she had during the war. It gave her both joy and sadness to think about those times, when she merely had to look into Steve’s eyes—

Peggy abruptly shut those thoughts and roughly pushed them away. The weight of her wedding band on her ring finger suddenly felt heavier than it ever had—

Steve was alive.

A shuddering sense of overwhelming panic swept through her. Peggy paused in buttoning up her blouse. Gripping the sides of the sink, she closed her eyes and took a couple of deep breaths, trying to calm herself.

Steve was alive, _**but**_ they still did not have an exact location. Bucky had not provided coordinates, but he had promised to go find and retrieve Steve when they were done with the mission in Bucharest.

Steve was alive.

Michael was alive.

Bucky was alive.

And Peggy was going to make sure HYDRA did not take away the three men she cared deeply about, ever again. She would tear the world apart with her bare hands to make sure that they all survived—

She took another deep breath and eased her grip on the sink. Blinking as she looked up and into her own reflection, Peggy smoothed out her blouse and resumed buttoning it up. The weight of her wedding band still felt heavy, but once they had the three safely in their custody, only then would she tell her husband about what happened.

How it happened.

And reassure him that she still loved him. That she would always look upon Steve fondly, but that that chapter of her life was closed.

Taking one last deep breath, Peggy tucked away her thoughts and distress to the corner of her mind. She had taken long enough in the bathroom, and there was much to be discussed between her and this other timeline Bucky about the operation.

Stepping out, she approached the table. A small amount of amusement filled her, driving her troubling thoughts a little further away as she saw that Bucky had put the t-shirt over the sleeveless undershirt he had on.

“Still have an enormous crush on Marlene Dietrich, James?”

Peggy couldn’t help but faintly smile as she saw Bucky glance up, puzzled and slightly confused by her question. She didn’t elaborate on her question, as the confused look slid into an understanding look. It was followed by an equally faint smile appearing on his face.

“If you’re still pretending that you’re dancing with Fred Astaire,” he said, as he slid the paper he had been writing on over to her.

The facetious grin he had matched her own, before Peggy glanced down at what he wrote. “I suppose that it is safe for me to assume that our differences is based solely on that… incident?” she asked.

As bug-free as Peggy had made sure the safe house was, they were still behind enemy lines. No radio had been provided in the safe house to cover any conversations. She had to be careful in her casual words – making sure that she kept referring to Bucky with his given name. Who knew what fantastical weapons the Soviet Union had on hand to try to listen in to houses in this neighborhood.

“I still have her picture hanging up in my locker,” Bucky answered. “She looks just as beautiful as ever.”

Peggy took a moment to jot down some of her answers to Bucky’s question, as she caught movement from her brother out of the corner of her eyes. He had been sitting on the ground, back against the wall. He had been reading over some local literature – even though she knew that he could not read or understand Romanian, much less Russian – and placed his book down.

“But, your heart is still set on Katharine Hepburn?” she questioned, returning her attention to Bucky, as she passed the notes back to him.

“Yeah,” he answered, the easy smile on his lips faltering just ever so slightly as he read through her answers.

Peggy didn’t say a word. Nor did she explain what was going on to her brother – who had no experience in this sort of thing. It was too dangerous for her to do so anyways – he was going to have to learn by watching.

The conversation that had taken place was a painful reminder, as it was for a cover for them. The last time she recalled discussing Hollywood actors and actresses was with Bucky, Steve, and DumDum. They had been in the pub in London, during the war.

She recalled that it had started out with DumDum arguing with Bucky about who was the prettier actress – Marlene Dietrich or Rita Hayworth. Peggy had learned that DumDum had a pinup of Hayworth in his locker at SSR Headquarters. Bucky had a cut out Dietrich from an advertisement for the 1937 film, _Knight Without Armor_ , in his locker.

In hindsight, especially what little she knew and remembered about Bucky’s heritage, Peggy couldn’t help but wonder if Bucky had deliberately picked that 1937 film as his favorite Dietrich film to argue with DumDum about. But then, the two had to rope her, and eventually Steve into their ‘argument’.

Over the course of the four’s discussion on Hollywood films, two rather surprising things had been revealed. The first was that Bucky had what he claimed was a shallow crush on Dietrich – finding her gorgeous to look at. It was Katherine Hepburn that had Bucky declared as his ‘lady of choice’, if ever given the chance to date any Hollywood actress.

Bucky had provided no explanation for that.

The second revelation involved Steve, and his then-recent trip to help the OSS with their propaganda. He had quietly admitted to briefly running into Dietrich during his duties for the OSS, before she had been whisked away to record some songs.

The table had gone absolutely silent as soon as Steve said that – all red faced with embarrassment. Hilariously enough – and much to Peggy’s exasperation – DumDum had demanded why Steve hadn’t gotten her autograph, or even tried to introduce any of them to her.

“Have you gotten a chance to see Ms. Hepburn on Broadway yet?” she casually asked, as Bucky passed the paper to her again, having written some more on it. “Coco, I think, is the name of the musical she’s in.”

“Not yet,” Bucky answered. “Tickets and time are hard to come by these days.”

Peggy scribbled down her clarification to Bucky’s response on one of his questions, before returning the paper to him. “I have a friend working in the business. Let me see what I can do to get you tickets.”

“Generous,” Bucky commented, glancing at the paper before nodding once in agreement and understanding of what was written.

“Tickets for one, or two?”

“Two, please,” Bucky answered, before getting up and gathered the paper, along with the maps. “And if you could do me one last favor, Pegs?”

“Yes?” she asked, rolling up the larger portions, before placing them into Bucky’s hands.

“Got a cigarette and light? Seemed to have forgotten my own.”

“Top left corner of the dresser,” she said. “Smoke in the bathroom please? You know I hate that smell everywhere else.”

“Thanks, Peggy,” Bucky said, and carried the folded papers and maps into the bathroom, before coming back out to retrieve the carton and lighter.

If Bucky noticed Alex’s fascinated eyes on him, he gave no indication, even as he shut the door to the bathroom behind him. Peggy was a little glad of that – that Bucky was hopefully ignoring her brother. She waited a few seconds before catching her brother’s attention with a simple signed gesture of her hands.

< _Be careful._ > she signed to him in Ameslan.

Only she, along with Howard knew that Alex was completely deaf in his left ear, and 80% in his right – due to what happened to him and his SAS unit in Dhofar. That incident in Dhofar had also left him more changed than just deafness.

It had transformed him. He now had an uncanny and voracious appetite to absorb and learn information – faster than before. Peggy didn’t know what caused it, and Alex was tight-lipped on that.

At nearly 22 years of age, when others would be beginning to graduate with premedical degrees, her brother was already a doctor. He had passed the exams, practicum, and residencies with flying colors. Peggy could not keep that knowledge from being in the public – and it led to the World Council recruiting him.

It was also thanks to Howard that Alex had regained most of his hearing – an experimental implant had been placed inside of him. Alex, however had picked up on Ameslan before hand, unsure if the implant would even work.

At the present, she saw him frown, puzzled.

< _Careful of what?_ > he signed back.

< _Of all the people I served with during the war, Sergeant James Barnes is the most ruthless and deadliest of them. Even before Steve… Captain America became what he was, Bucky was always the shadow to Steve. He carried out the dirty work_ _of the SSR_ _, no questions asked, so the flag would not ever be soiled._ > she explained.

< _Peggy…_ > her brother signed, clearly annoyed.

Peggy knew she was smothering him. But she needed him to understand that as much fun as he had in secretly sleeping with who he thought were interesting sexual partners of either gender, this particular iteration of Bucky was dangerous. And that the Winter Soldier of their reality was not Bucky – at least that was the impression she got.

< _Give him a target, and he will kill that target; friend, lover, or family._ > she signed. < _Wolf Spider…_ _Michael_ _is proof of that._ _Our brother and Bucky… t_ _hey were… more than just friends during the war, Alex._ >

< _But he said that—_ > Alex began.

< _Alex,_ _this Bucky, this 0-8-4,_ _not just here to return that Tesseract, or to bring Steve back home._ > Peggy explained. < _He’s here to see and learn if there is any way to stop Wolf Spider_ _without resorting to assassination_ _– to save his own timeline from becoming the world we live in. If there isn’t… he’ll kill Michael_ _without hesitation_ _._ _His timeline’s Michael… maybe our timeline’s Michael as well._ >

Alex hesitated, and then he scowled at her. < _I refuse to believe it._ > he stubbornly signed. < _I refuse to believe that such a cold-hearted person could exist—_ >

The bathroom door suddenly opened, and the faint odor of smoke wafted out. Bucky stepped out and closed the door behind him, nodding once towards Peggy. The papers, maps, and all things related to their mission that would begin in less than seven hours, was burned and drained.

Getting up, Peggy walked over to her brother and briefly embraced him. “Just be careful,” she repeated to him in a whisper.

He didn’t answer her, but she did see the stubbornness in his eyes fade. She walked away from him. As she passed Bucky to get to the tiny bedroom in the safe house, she said, “You should at least try to get some sleep, James.”

“I’ll try,” Bucky answered.

Peggy knew that tone in his voice. It was the tone of his refusal to sleep while behind enemy lines – that he would remain awake to stand watch while the rest of them slept. She also knew that there was no other argument she could try – to convince him to at least get a couple of hours of shut-eye.

While her memories of the war were not as sharp as they had been, she clearly remembered that Steve had been the only one able to successfully order Bucky to at least get forty winks while behind enemy lines. But Steve was not here – not yet.

“Then I will see both of you in a few hours,” she answered with finality.

* * *

_Time of Day: 15:23, local_

_Location: Classified_

_Status: Approaching target area_

Rain made the rooftops slick and slippery, but it did not stop his careful approach to the target area. It drove people indoors, leaving the streets almost uninhabited. Guards still roamed the streets, but even the local market day didn’t draw as many people as it normally would have.

At least that was what he had been brief on by his handler.

Low population made it easier for him to carry out his orders of assassination – no collateral damage.

He slowly breathed in and out, as the rain pelted him, his armor, and his weapons. The wet made him feel slightly heavier, but his movements were not sluggish at all. Instead, he lightly landed in a crouch on the rooftop, and kept himself low as he carefully approached the other end of the rooftop.

Slowly, he made his way to the corner, slipping in behind alcoves, before silently pausing at the foot of a rickety ladder set against the water tower. Quietly and carefully climbing up so that there was no sound, he swung himself up and over, landing on the rain-soaked walkway.

Three careful steps was all it took to position himself in the area that would conceal but leave him the tiniest sliver of an opening to snipe his target. Withdrawing his sniper rifle with ease, he pressed it up to his eye and began to calibrate the scope.

The atrium-like area of the courtyard below him was filled with shops, but not as many people as expected. Again, the rain was to blame for most patrons to remain indoors—

He frowned.

Mission parameters had stated that even without the weather as-is, the number of patrons gracing the small tables in and around the cafe were numbered to be one. Two, if the target was included.

There were five, including the woman that he had been directed to avoid shooting at – at all costs: Margaret Carter, Director of SHIELD.

He slowly panned his calibrated scope zero-point-two-five degrees per movement, all around the courtyard. He was careful to minimize his movements as much as possible.

There were four patrons sitting nearest to Carter, and two more within the cafe itself. The cafe’s owner was not present at the counter—

Two SHIELD agents sitting at the cafe, watching—

Four SHIELD agents within the courtyard—

No sign that the Winter Guard team he had been briefed about, were clearing the SHIELD agent threats—

His eyes and scope strayed up to the public clock tower on the far side of the courtyard. It marked the exact time in which the briefing stated that his target would arrive. And as soon as he panned his scope down one-point-five degrees, he saw his target—

The Winter Soldier stayed his hand on the trigger; the mission parameters had been explicit in the orders – _**no**_ collateral damage. There was another SHIELD agent who had crossed the light of sight he had on the target—

A tiny creak from the slippery ladder bolted to the water tower, sent the Winter Soldier into action. Not to shoot his target, but to immediately whirl around, level the barrel of his rifle at the incoming threat, and pull the trigger—

Only for the bullet to slam directly into the arm of the black-clad intruder – clattering to the walkway’s grating with a dull thud. That thud sounded distantly familiar to something he heard whenever he deflected bullets with his left arm.

Those eyes that stared at him through the black balaclava…they were _his own_.

Not a split second after that stray, non-mission essential thought cross his mind, the intruder lunged at him, faster than the Winter Soldier expected. But the Winter Soldier knew that he was faster—

~*~*~*~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Winter Soldier (1970) vs. Winter Soldier (1949). Hoped you enjoyed the special guest POV of the Winter Soldier. On another note: Ameslan is the obsolete/deprecated term of American Sign Language.


	23. Stasis – Part 4 – 1970

**Chapter 18: Stasis – Part 4 – 1970**

_Pwtot!_

Peggy didn’t flinch so much take a quick glance around. The noise sounded like a rifle being discharged, but muffled – greatly muffled. General Krylenko had paused as well, as Peggy saw Agent Mercanto eye both the defecting officer and their surroundings with some apprehension.

Yet, no one was falling over, there were no signs of blood on anyone, and Peggy didn’t feel any pain on herself either. The pigeons she had seen roosting under the cover of the building across the courtyard hadn’t even taken flight.

Peggy forced herself to relax as her brief survey of the rooftops surrounding them yielded no threat. Even so, whatever that sound was, was enough for Peggy to know that _something_ may have happened on Bucky’s side of the mission.

Slowly getting up so that she wouldn’t be perceived as a threat, she silently signaled to the nearest agent to begin scattering. She calmly walked towards Krylenko, who was eyeing her with some curiosity and suspicion.

“< _General Krylenko? Director Carter of SHIELD._ >” she introduced herself to the man, two steps away from the man. “< _Let_ _us_ _get you somewhere safer, shall we?_ >”

~~~

Agonizing pain lanced across Bucky’s head as he twisted and flipped the Winter Soldier over his shoulder, throwing him onto the hard, slicked rooftop. But he didn’t stop there, or pause – instincts and the four days of intense training with Steve kicked in.

He took the fall that the Winter Soldier induced with the leg sweep, hard, but did not let go. Dragging the Winter Soldier down with him, Bucky immediately wrapped his left arm around his counterpart’s neck, while smashing the Winter Soldier’s left arm down onto the ground with his leg.

He squeezed and tighten his hold, as he felt his counterpart thrash around, trying to get free. But Bucky did not relent or ease his hold – not until the Winter Soldier stopped moving a couple of minutes later. Even then, Bucky remained where he was, making doubly sure that the sleeper hold he had induced on his counterpart was secured.

The pitter-patter of the wet, cold rain soaked into him, chilling him as he laid there on the rooftop for a few moments, catching his breath. His body ached from the punches that landed from the Winter Soldier. He could only imagine that his counterpart felt the same – if he were conscious.

Still, now was not the time to rest. As Bucky slid out from underneath, he pushed the pain away as best as he could. He sat his unconscious counterpart up. Carefully hefting the Winter Soldier up, he slung him over his shoulders and stood up.

Walking a few yards away, he also picked up the sniper rifle that his counterpart had dropped, and began to head towards the direction where he had left the rest of the Winter Guard. Landing on the rooftop of another building with a jarring thud, he saw Alex glance up from where he was crouched before one of the sedated and tied up Winter Guard members.

An ache unlike what he was physically feeling echoed within him, as he saw Alex brush Michael’s rain-soaked hair back for a moment. Bucky squashed that feeling; he had to concentrate on the here and now – that was to complete the mission.

“Here,” he said, as he crouched and removed his counterpart from his shoulders as gently as possible. Alex had gotten up with his approach and deposit of the Winter Soldier.

“Not sure how much it is, but the last time I remember Zola sedating me, was with a tube that was about eh… this big,” he explained, using his hands to indicate the size of what little he wanted to remember of what Zola had done to him. “Knocked me out for at least thirty minutes.”

If Alex was surprised, the young man did not show it. Instead, Bucky received a curt nod, before the doctor began to rifle through his bag. Bucky left him alone and went over to get two members of the Winter Guard ready for Tesseract transport.

Yet, the moment he glanced back to see just how much sedative Alex was going to inject into the Winter Soldier, he found the doctor giving him an unreadable look.

“Turn away,” Alex calmly stated.

Bucky frowned slightly as he hefted the lone woman within the Winter Guard up and over his shoulders. Alex was still crouched next to the Winter Soldier, but had not done as he ordered.

“Carter—” he hissed, annoyed.

“Turn away, _now_ ,” Alex interrupted, almost growling his words.

Bucky was thoroughly tempted to drop the two Winter Guard members he was preparing for Tesseract transport, to confront and make Alex obey his orders. But to his surprise, it was Alex who stepped directly up to him.

“I am not going to sedate your counterpart while you’re watching, _Agent_ ,” Alex hissed. “Turn around now, do what you need to do, but don’t you dare turn back until I give you to order to do so.”

There was something to be said about various arguments he had been having with different members of the Carter family – even across different realities and timelines. But this one felt different, and Bucky could have sworn that he heard protectiveness in Alex’s tone.

Yet, he had a gut feeling that he shouldn’t argue with Alex’s orders. Even more strange was that when he did turn around, the uneasy feeling that had been lingering within him seemed to ease.

But there was no time to waste, and a moment later, Bucky felt the cold stab of the Tesseract wrapping itself around him, and into his skin. The rainy, dreary weather of Bucharest’s rooftops was suddenly replaced by the warm interior of Howard’s airplane.

“God! It worked!”

Howard’s exclamation was a welcome change from the tense atmosphere Bucky had left behind. Yet, the physical wounds that he had sustained while fighting his counterpart felt even more inflamed and acutely painful.

Bucky ignored it as Howard ambled over from where he had poked his head out of the cockpit. Together, the two of them hefted up the Winter Guard members and settled them within the jump seats.

“Where are we?” Bucky asked, wondering where the airplane was currently flying over.

“Doing some figure-eights for ‘atmospheric data gathering’,” Howard stated, grinning at him. “ATC cleared our route and altitudes after I invoked some SHIELD stuff on them. You know… for helping you get back to your reality and all. Speaking of which… you never did say how you got here.”

“I’ll be back in a jiffy, Stark,” Bucky said, ignoring Howard’s cajoling.

The cold enveloped him again. The pinpricks of ice that seemed to stab into him felt even sharper than before. Dreary rain fell across his face a moment later as he found himself back on the rooftops of Bucharest.

Hurrying over to where the others were, Bucky saw that Alex was now carefully binding the Winter Soldier’s legs together. The sniper rifle was slung across the Winter Soldier’s shoulder again. Ignoring the sight, Bucky turned and dragged the other two of the five Winter Guard members a little ways away.

He deliberately left Michael – and his counterpart – for last. Not that a part of it was to give Alex some time to come to terms about what happened to his older brother, but also Bucky wasn’t sure he could continue to stomach the sight of a barely aged Michael. The former SOE agent had not recognized him – when he had ambushed and subdued the Winter Guard team earlier.

Teleporting with the Tesseract again felt not like ice, but like fire this time. Bucky wasn’t sure why he was feeling a searing sort of pain all along his skin. The ice-cold feeling also didn’t die at all, and lingered like an unwanted cough.

But he still made it. Hefting the two Winter Guard members, he sat them in the jump seats, noting that Howard was busy securing custom-made bindings over the first two. The bindings were replacing the temporary ones done by Alex – in case the sedatives that Alex had injected into the Winter Guard team and Winter Soldier weren’t enough.

Just as Bucky got up and turned to return to the rooftops, he heard Howard say, “Say… you’re not looking too well there, Barnes—”

Bucky ignored Howard and teleported back. The blue-black cloud faded, the rain returned, but the ice that seemed to flow through his veins felt colder. At the same time, the searing fire that crawled under his skin seemed just a little hotter.

“Bucky—” Alex began.

“One more trip. Then I’ll be back to get you,” Bucky said. He didn’t bother to heft up either the Winter Soldier or Michael, and wrapped his hands around their wrists. Exhaustion was nipping at him, and he could feel his wounds bleeding a little more than they had before.

Teleporting back to the interior of Howard’s airplane, Bucky immediately let go as a wave of nausea slammed into him. He fought to keep his eyes open, as he heard Howard’s startled exclamation. He felt pounding footsteps along the floor where he laid, but he knew he had to go. He had to get back to Bucharest to get Alex—

Blessedly cold rain pelted his face as Bucky blinked and blearily saw that he had returned to the rooftops of the city. Neither Michael nor his counterpart were with him – they were safely on Howard’s airplane and on their way to freedom.

“Fucking hell,” he heard Alex swear, as he felt himself being jostled and partially lifted up. “Do not fucking teleport us, Bucky! That’s an order!”

But there was no where else they could go – except for a safe house. And he knew those safe houses would be filled with the other agents laying low until they could get out themselves. He and Alex couldn’t risk going to a safe house within the city.

Their mission was done, and soon, Peggy would be escaping the city with General Krylenko. Yet, when Bucky opened his left hand and blearily looked down, the blue stone was no longer in his hand.

He could feel the swirl of ice within him, but there was something fighting it – hold it back from consuming him. Preventing him from using the Tesseract again.

Bucky still felt like he was on fire, even as he tried to reach for the ice-cold feeling of the Tesseract. But the rain felt cooling, soothing—

~~~

The storm that lashed across the late afternoon skies was quite the tempest. Yet, even with the scratching and banging noises on the windows from the wind, something prickled at Peggy’s senses in this last gust that howled by.

She slipped away from Krylenko with a simple nod of her head. It was the usual signal she gave him whenever silently indicating that she was going to do a perimeter check. Krylenko didn’t even acknowledge it, and Peggy didn’t care.

Reticent was not the word to describe Krylenko, when they had arrived at the safe house – different from the one she, Alex, and Bucky had used hours earlier. It seemed that the man had expected a certain amount of protection available when he chose to go with her. When none was to be had, he had then taken a seat in the living room and turned on the television, completely ignoring her.

Peggy had scattered her agents – telling them to get to their safe houses, and to lay low until contacted with an extraction plan. Given the chilling details that the Soviets had acquired about her itinerary to intercept Krylenko, Peggy did not want to take any risks with her agents leaving the country so soon after Krylenko – and hopefully, the Winter Soldier and Winter Guard members as well – went missing.

As Peggy climbed the stairs to the second floor, she kept her hand curled around her pistol. The storm was more audible up here, but it was unusually loud. Peggy withdrew her pistol and carefully pressed herself against the wall.

Listening carefully to the storm, she saw the flash of lightning reflect off the house’s walls, and then threw the door open. Leveling her pistol—

“Alex!” she exclaimed, as she saw her brother dragging in a half-stumbling Bucky through the room’s window.

Holstering her pistol, she hurried over and helped the two through. They were soaked through with the rain, and Peggy quickly closed the window they had climbed through. “What—” she began.

“Just need to catch forty winks, Carter,” she heard Bucky painfully huff, sounding labored. “We’ll be out of your hair…”

He looked like an absolute mess. Blood seeped from his wounds – especially the nasty-looking gash that was on the side of his head. His skin was a grey pallor.

As Peggy caught him on the other side and helped her brother drag him to the couch, she noted that he felt warm – too warm to be normal.

“Tesseract,” was all Alex said.

“What do you need me to do?” Peggy asked.

Her eyes strayed down to the bangle that was peeking out of the all-black uniform Bucky had worn. She could only imagine the scene that Bucky and her 1940’s self had face when their reality’s Steve had done the same, incredibly stupid thing of excessive usage of an Infinity Stone.

“Get me bandages, antiseptic, ice, whatever you can find, Peggy,” Alex stated. “He’s not past the point where his reality’s Steve’s at, but he is close. Hurry.”

* * *

_Later, nightfall…_

“< _What is it that constantly draws your attention to the second floor, Director?_ >”

“< _It is none of your concern, General—_ >”

“< _I make it my concern, when it is clear that SHIELD does not care for_ _the risk I have taken_ _—_ >”

“< _Your safety is the utmost concern of SHIELD, General. If you must know, we are sharing this safe house with another agent of mine. Another ‘_ _faceless’_ _agent whom has risked his life for_ _ **your**_ _sake, when you have not shown a drop of remorse—_ >”

The sharpness of Peggy’s voice arguing with the deep rumbling of a man, in Russian, faded slightly from Bucky’s awareness as he blinked awake. He didn’t remember even falling asleep, much less getting to wherever he was—

He couldn’t help but hiss as a sharp lance of pain enveloped his entire body the moment he tried to move. Even just breathing as deeply as he just did sent another wave of pain cascading throughout his body, before it began to subside—

“You’re awake. Thank goodness.”

Bucky turned his head slightly, finding that he was able to thankfully do so with little to no pain. He was lying on a couch. His all-black combat uniform and balaclava had been removed, leaving him clothed in someone’s loose trousers, socks, and t-shirt. A blanket had been pulled up to his chest to keep the chill away.

Alex had gotten up from where he was sitting on a recliner, watching what apparently was a television. Silently, the young doctor seemed to understand that he wanted to sit up and see what was being shown on the screen.

With the doctor’s help, Bucky leaned forward as he felt more pillows being stuffed against his back. As soon as that was done, Alex handed him a cup of water.

“How are you feeling?” Alex asked after taking the empty cup back and set it to the side.

“I hurt… all over,” Bucky admitted.

He figured that it was completely useless to lie to Alex. He remembered doing what he did on those rooftops – and of Alex stopping him. Remaining silent as he had done before about his usage of the Tesseract was just going to make the doctor fuss over him some more.

“May I take your temperature?”

Bucky blinked, surprised. He nodded his assent a moment later, though was a little more curious than surprised that Alex placed a hand on his forehead, before placing his other hand on his own.

“Well, your temperature is still elevated,” Alex began, removing his hand. “But it’s to be expected, with the lingering effects of your serum constantly working to repair the damage. But it’s definitely lower than it was before.”

“Still not to your liking, is it?” Bucky finished up.

“It’s never going to be,” Alex stated, nodding towards Bucky’s left wrist. “Not with that thing constantly attached to you.”

Bucky glanced over at his wrist, with the black inset staring up at him. “You could have removed it,” he quietly stated, returning his attention onto Alex.

“You wouldn’t have allowed it,” Alex answered in an equally quiet tone. A rather humorless smile briefly graced his lips before Bucky heard him say, “I’ve seen and experienced what it’s like to bear the weight of something they feel responsible for. Metaphorically and literally. Even as feverishly delirious as you were, you would have fought to the death first than let someone take that off of you.”

Bucky couldn’t help the mental sigh within his thoughts. Alex was right.

In a sense, he couldn’t help but feel that the echoes of Steve’s sense of justice and responsibility were bleeding into him. It wasn’t just for selfish reasons that he picked up the bangle – it was to complete Steve’s mission.

But at the same token, he was no good to the mission, or to the help he needed to get Steve, if he died here. Staring down at the inset and bangle for a few long moments, Bucky then reached over – however painful that proved to be – and slipped the bangle off.

It clattered on the floor, and remained there.

The strangest of sensations suddenly crawled through his body. The aches and pain that ravaged him were not gone, but they seemed significantly dulled. The feverish feeling that gripped him also seemed to dissipate.

“How are you feeling now?” came Alex’s careful question.

Bucky couldn’t help but stare at his hands, slowly flipping both his metal left and flesh-and-blood right back and forth. “Strangely… better,” he said, glancing up at Alex, who had not moved from where he was sitting.

“Would you mind if I took a look at that wound?” Alex asked, gesturing to his head.

It took Bucky a moment to realize and remember that he had sustained a rather nasty gash to his head – courtesy of his counterpart. Strangely though, that wound had been among the most painful, and sharply acute wounds, and now wasn’t.

“It… doesn’t hurt,” he stated.

“Not even when I do this?” Alex softly asked, shifting and leaned forward.

A second later, Bucky felt the barest pressure of lips on his temple, brushing just above where the gauze and tape laid over the gash. A want, a deep-seated need to banish the aching loneliness rose within him, as he responded to the invitation.

He tilted his head to the side so that those soft, warm lips left left a gentle trail across his face, until he met them with his own lips—

The rather loud clearing of a throat startled Bucky, as it did Alex. It was Alex who sprang back, as Bucky glanced up and over towards the door to see Peggy of all people, standing there. Her arms were folded, and she was shaking her head at them.

Bucky saw disappointment in her eyes, but it wasn’t directed at him. He glanced over towards Alex, who didn’t look ashamed at all, but was giving Peggy and even – almost defiant – look. As Bucky glanced back and forth between the two silent siblings, he had a feeling that Peggy may have lectured Alex specifically about him.

… _you are more Wolf Spider than Winter Soldier…_

And more than likely, what he, Bucky, had done to Michael during the war.

That meant that Peggy _knew_ what his third objective in this desperate, crazy mission of his. The problem was, would this 1970 version of Peggy stop him if he decided to kill Michael – not here in 1970, but in 1949? Would she find some way to prevent him from returning?

He didn’t know.

Before any of them could break the awkward, uncomfortable silence, Peggy’s attention suddenly shifted to the television screen. Bucky immediately glanced at it, as Alex got up and turned up the volume.

“< _…_ _see that these young Americans_ _who claim to ‘study’ at our institutions_ _, these spies they send—_ >”

Bucky tuned out the Russian propaganda, as he saw the heavily injured American agent being openly paraded around by local authorities. Peggy’s lips were thinned, and there was anger creasing the corner of her eyes. He didn’t need words from her to know that one of her agents in this Bucharest mission had been captured.

He silently sighed and bent down slightly to pick up the bangle from the floor. Strapping it around his left wrist, he glanced over at Peggy again. The aches and pain, along with the feverish feeling returned, slamming into him almost all at once.

“Where are they, Peggy? Where have your agents scattered to?” he managed to say, trying to contain his exhaustion and pain from coloring his voice.

“Request denied, Agent Barnes,” Peggy’s quiet, but hard tone startled him. “Take that goddamn thing off your wrist, and stop killing yourself. You’re no good to your reality – to your Steve – dead.”

“Peg—” he protested.

“That’s an order, soldier.”

Bucky snapped his mouth shut, and did as he was told. The bangle clattered to the floor again – this time seemingly like a lead weight. Peggy was not Steve, but those words, the tone, and the cadence… that was all Steve.

“Alex, make sure he’s stays there, and rests up for the remainder of the night,” Peggy continued to say, as she turned off the television. “We move at dawn.”

“Understood,” Alex replied, before belatedly tacking on a, “ma’am.”

Peggy left without another word or glance at either of them, closing the door on her way out. As soon as her footsteps down the stairs faded, Alex stammered, “I’m sorry for what I did Bucky—”

“Don’t apologize,” Bucky interrupted, shaking his head, as he glanced over and gave him a rueful smile.

“I’m…” Alex began, looking slightly hesitant. “I’m not my brother—”

“I know,” Bucky interrupted. He knew he needed to nip this in the bud before it got anywhere. Not only for his own sake, but also for his counterpart here. “Whatever Peggy told you about me during the war… and the… relationship… between your brother and myself…is—”

“Complicated,” Alex finished up. “Sorry.”

“This is not me,” Bucky quietly stated after a minute of silence. “Me, in the here and now. Me of your reality.”

“I know,” Alex answered just as quietly.

_Do you? Really?_

Bucky wanted to challenge that knowledge, but he held his tongue. He was beginning to see why Steve also did want to linger long in any other reality.

Complex explanations aside, it was too easy to get caught up and mixed up in the affairs of one reality to another – to try to solve problems that burdened worlds. Not to mention, the vast complications that came with different iterations of people familiar but not.

Alex Carter of his reality, his point in time, was just a baby – not even a full year old yet.

“I just hope that perhaps one day… maybe…” the young doctor began.

“Perhaps,” Bucky agreed, even though he had a feeling that that wishful thinking was never going to become true.

“Rest up, Bucky,” Alex said after a few seconds of uncomfortable silence. “I’ll wake you up when we’re ready to move out.”

* * *

_Dawn…_

Rapid movement out of the corner of Peggy’s eyes had Peggy reacting, but compared to just how fast a super-soldier moved, she was as slow as a snail in withdrawing her pistol—

“Agent!” she bit out, as she saw Bucky immediately let go of the sackcloth that he had shoved over Krylenko’s head. He pressed a pistol into the back of Krylenko, stilling the man.

“What on earth—” Peggy began.

“The doc tells me that alternate arrangements for the other agents’ evacuations have been made,” Bucky gruffly stated. “He’s wrapping up stuff, but we’ve got to leave now, ma’am.”

“Yes,” Peggy confirmed. “They have.”

It was then that Peggy realized that Bucky was wearing the Captain America uniform, sans helmet. “How long?” she asked, nodding for Bucky to let Krylenko go.

The Russian general had stilled as soon as Bucky had spoken, which told her that Krylenko could at least understand some English. She hadn’t gotten much out of the man while they had been holed up here, but Peggy didn’t expect to. Krylenko knew his value to SHIELD and to the United States – he was not going to reveal his knowledge until they were safe.

Bucky eased his hold on Krylenko, but Peggy noticed that he didn’t completely let him go. Bucky kept one hand wrapped around Krylenko’s arm, holstering his pistol with his left hand before Peggy saw a glowing blue stone slip into his left palm.

Startled, she glanced up at him. The Tesseract glowed brightly, but the stone that it truly was, was not as bright as she had expected it to be. It also became quite clear just how long they had to evacuate this place—

“Doc! Get your ass down here, now! We’ve got to go!” Bucky roared.

The clattering of Alex’s feet on the stairs was loud, but a few seconds later, he appeared. “They’re all burned and destroyed,” Alex stated.

“What—” Peggy began, but then closed her mouth, as she realized that the small area near Bucky’s right eyebrow was no longer bandaged. Alex had destroyed as much of the DNA traces of Bucky as possible – and that most likely included the all-black uniform.

Yet she didn’t dare ask out loud if Bucky was healthy enough to transport the four of them. Alex had said he had witnessed Bucky transport two of the six Soviet assets they had captured, at a time. Peggy had seen the aftermath of that less than twelve hours ago. Judging by the bruise she saw where the wound had been bandaged, Bucky was not fully healed yet.

“Hold on,” Bucky said with as much cockiness and confidence as he could muster. He shifted so that his right forearm was able to be held by both her and Alex. “It might get a little rough and cold.”

Peggy reached out and placed her hand on Bucky’s forearm, curling around as Alex did the same. A moment later, Peggy felt a sudden chill envelop her. That chill turned into a downright painful stab of absolute cold, as she saw a blue-black cloud envelope her—

And stumbled forward, heels stomping on a metal floor—

She blinked and let go as she realized that they were no longer in the safe house. They were in the interior of a rather spartan-looking aircraft. Krylenko, with the sackcloth still covering his head, was still next to her—

“Oh my.”

Peggy whirled around, only to see Jarvis of all people poking his head into the aircraft’s belly. From the ground up; which meant that Howard had landed his aircraft at his upstate New York warehouse and research facility.

“This is most unexpected, Director,” Jarvis began.

“Sorry to drop in unannounced,” Peggy couldn’t help but say in a slightly facetious tone. “But I was wondering if it is possible to borrow a car.”

“A car?” Jarvis questioned, looking slightly confused, before Peggy gestured and pulled Krylenko forward slightly.

“Yes, please. This man here is an important asset who needs to be kept safe. If you would please, get him situated in the car, I need to have a word with my agents here about a couple of things.”

“Erm, yes, I shall do so, Director Carter,” Jarvis answered, before reaching up to help Krylenko off the aircraft.

Peggy made sure to make a silent motion to Jarvis to not remove the sackcloth from Krylenko’s head. She received a nod in return—

“Hey, you got an ice pick in this tin can?”

Bucky’s unexpected question towards Jarvis startled her. Yet, Howard’s butler seemed to take the entire thing with more grace than she could imagine. “Rear of the aircraft, within the upper left compartment sir,” Jarvis answered, before turning to lead Krylenko away.

Realization struck her as she turned to stop Bucky from doing what he was doing to do, but it was too late. She wasn’t fast enough, and neither was Alex. Bucky had already quickly closed the distance to the rear of the aircraft, and retrieve the large ice pick from the compartment.

“Agent, wait—!” Peggy began, taking a couple of futile steps forward. A blue-black cloud enveloped Bucky and whisked him away.

She couldn’t help but exchange a rather exasperated look with Alex. While she remembered Bucky – and Steve – being somewhat reckless when it came to fighting HYDRA in the field, she never recalled Bucky being this careless with his own life.

“Erm… Director Carter?”

Jarvis’s question was a welcomed distraction, as Peggy turned from where she was. “Yes?” she asked.

“General Krylenko is situated in the car. While he does not seem to be injured, he is demanding answers. I dare not remove the covering yet—”

“Don’t. Not yet,” she said, and glanced back at where Bucky used to stand. She didn’t know when he would reappear again, yet, she could not leave Krylenko in Howard’s hangar bay.

“Mr. Jarvis,” she said, returning her attention to her old friend. “Would you mind doing me a favor?”

“Not at all, Director,” Jarvis answered, smiling that same old smile that Peggy knew as his anticipatory smile for an adventure.

“General Krylenko is a SHIELD asset that we picked up in Bucharest. His whereabouts are currently unknown to both the Soviet Union and SHIELD. Given the way he was smuggled out, and the furor happening in Bucharest, I’d like you to take him to the house near Whitney and Battle in White Plains,” she stated. “Get him settled there.”

“The house near Whitney and Battle...” Jarvis began. “Your old house?”

“I’ve secretly converted it into a safe house after it was ‘sold’ on the market,” she stated. “Keys are in a false bottom on the third potted plant from the stairs.”

“And what shall I tell General Krylenko?”

“Tell him to enjoy the peace and quiet. For now,” Peggy answered. “I’ll be by to visit once the furor subsides.”

“I will, Director,” Jarvis said, nodding once. “And please, be careful with whatever you are doing here with that other reality’s Agent Barnes.”

“Thank you for your concern, Jarvis,” she sincerely said. “You be careful as well, old friend.”

Jarvis left, and Peggy couldn’t help but audibly sigh as she sank down into the jump seat. Alex dropped to the seat beside her and wrapped a comforting arm around her shoulders. Leaning into him for a brief moment, Peggy closed her eyes, wishing—

“You didn’t tell your husband yet, didn’t you?” Alex’s quiet question broke the silence.

Silently, she shook her head. “Not yet,” she answered. “There was too much to do—”

“One step at a time, Peggy. One step at a time.”

At that, Peggy couldn't help the choked laughter of happiness mixed with sadness that emerged from her lips. “Oh, you...” she began.

Silence enveloped the two of them, but even though she wanted to step off the airplane and go see to what Howard was doing with the six former Soviet agents, she couldn’t bring herself to move. She didn’t know how the Tesseract worked, but from what she observed, along with the descriptions that Alex had given her about how it transported people, she surmised that Bucky could only teleport to places where he seen or been to before.

It meant that at any moment, or even hours from now, Bucky would return with Steve—

“Come on, Pegs,” her brother gently stated. “We don’t know when Bucky will be back. Let’s go see how Michael is doing, all right?”

Peggy wanted to protest and stay, but her brother was right. Silently nodding, he kept his comforting arm wrapped around her shoulders as they both stood up.

“I’m not a frail old woman yet, Alex,” she said, as Alex tried to help her off the airplane, as she had seen him do for the elderly.

“Humor me, Peggy,” Alex answered, smiling. “You’ve been through a lot in these past few days. Your CMO is a little concerned.”

Sighing, Peggy reached out and took her brother’s hand. Yet, as soon as she took one step down the stairs, a rather loud bang sounded behind her. The aircraft shuddered rather violently, but Peggy was already scrambling back up and into the airplane—

“Steve!” she gasped.

* * *

It was the strange whir, a humming noise that didn’t sound like anything he had heard before, that woke him from the darkness. Then it was the strange, steady beep that he heard – nothing like a car horn – that pushed him past the exhaustion enveloping him—

Steve blinked.

His eyelids felt like sandpaper scraping over his eyes, the breaths he took warm – not cold as he had expected. He felt warm, clothed not in the stiff weave of his uniform. Even the air he smelled was sharp, sterile, like a hospital—

The ceiling resolved into a white colored one, and he looked to his right, feeling slightly disoriented and dizzy. Sunlight was streaming through the windows, but it was the strange apparatuses next to him, and behind him—

Steve’s eyes landed on the person sitting next to his bed. Dark brown hair, familiarly gorgeous, laid half pinned up, while locks were curled around her face. But there were grey and white strands within her hair, and her face… As peaceful as she looked, sleeping in the chair, Steve saw the aged lines—

“Peggy?” he softly croaked out, wondering if what he was seeing was true.

He choked back a sob as he saw Peggy stir. Those lovingly warm eyes of hers opened, and immediately sought him out—

“Steve,” she breathed, happy tears pricking at the corner of her eyes. “It’s been so long. So long.”

~*~*~*~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, the cast has been reunited in their 1970's forms, and the consequences (both good and bad) of Peggy and Bucky's actions will be wrought in the next chapter, as they all adjust to the new normal of that reality.
> 
> On another side note, the breakdown of what Bucky wants from 1970, in return for giving their stone back is basically:  
> [ ] 1. Complete Steve's mission. Return the Tesseract so there aren't two hanging around in the 1940's reality.  
> [x] 2. Free Steve from his ice prison in the Arctic.  
> [x] 3. Free his 1970's self from being a weapon for the Soviets and machinations of HYDRA.  
> [x] 4. Free Michael, and find a way (if possible) to discern whether or not Michael has always been the Wolf Spider since being captured in 1945. And if there is a way to undo the programming.


	24. Stasis – Part 5 – 1970

**Chapter 19: Stasis – Part 5 – 1970**

“You could at least look, or even act a little happier after everything you’ve done in the past couple of days, James.”

Bucky looked over from where he had been staring out of the one-way window. Natasha was languidly lounging on the rather ridiculously comfortable desk chair within the room he had been given.

While not quite a hotel, it was a lot nicer than any place Bucky had stayed at while traveling – even in New York. Howard Stark’s research facility here in upstate New York was large enough to allow Stark Industries employees to temporarily live within the campus – without having to stay in a hotel.

He was not an employee, and he didn’t know who had negotiated it, but Stark had given him a room for his temporary stay. At least Bucky hoped it was temporary.

He still needed to ask Peggy for a vial of Pym Particles, and Bucky knew that that request would come with a lot of questions. There weren’t any answers he could provide, but he knew enough about SHIELD to understand that they would be conducting a massive amount of research into _how_ he had time traveled with Pym Particles.

Until at least Zola was detained – or executed, as was his preference – he could not mention anything about Pym Particles. Even if he didn’t know how they worked with the time travel device, he did not want any part of HYDRA, no matter how small, to get wind about such technology.

At the present, he took in Natasha’s appearance, saying, “You look… better.”

Natasha still looked pale and unwell, but the lichen-like growth that he had last seen crawling and erupting all over her was gone. There were some dark vein-like spidering lines crawling up her neck, and all along her hands, but her face was clear of whatever that was.

“No thanks to you,” she answered, tilting her head slightly as she played with the center line zipper of her outfit. “Or rather, the drain on your constant replenishment of cells as a super-soldier.”

She then unexpectedly pulled her outfit’s zipper down to her navel. It was only because of the various belts on her outfit, and the skin-hugging tightness of it, that her breasts did not spill out.

Bucky couldn’t quite stop his body from reacting to such a sexually provocative action. Yet, as he stared at her, he focused his attention on what exactly he was seeing in the center of her chest. The dark vein-like root system that he had seen on her neck started from the center of her chest – surrounded by too-pale skin.

Within her chest was the Space Stone.

“What… the hell?” he couldn’t help but whisper in slight horror – his slightly aroused state completely disappearing.

He managed to stop himself from shifting away, as she got up and came over to the bed. The bed sank slightly with her weight, as she crawled forward. She stopped about an arm length away from him, giving him both an ample view of her breasts _and_ the stone embedded between them.

“Natalia?” he couldn’t help but question, flicking his eyes between the stone and her face.

“I’m not giving this back to you until you’re ready to not be reckless in using it, James,” she stated.

Bucky frowned. He had always thought that the stones were somehow either reading thoughts, or anticipating actions seconds before they happened. He didn’t realize that those within the Soul Stone were able to exert some control over the stones.

Yet… with that thought came the realization that what he had seen happen to the Time Stone was a lack of control. The Time Stone had escaped control. Therefore, it would make perfect sense for the residents of the Soul Stones to have some control over the other stones.

“How much are you able to control—” he began.

“You nearly killed yourself in Bucharest, James,” she stated in a hard tone. “It wasn’t the same as what Steve experienced. Bruce _**told**_ you that there’s only so much we can absorb. It’s not just Steve who has been charged with a mission. We have as well, and we work _as a team_. So the next time you want to attempt to commit suicide by radiation, do it while we’re not riding along with you.”

He stared at her, stunned.

Then, he realized just how selfish he had been – how he thought only of himself, of freeing himself from the machinations of HYDRA. Even retrieving Steve from the Arctic was selfish; he needed Steve’s blood to bring back to 1949.

He had dressed it up as a rescue mission to Peggy. Said the words that he knew that would make her agree to do this – all because he had read and taken Tony’s information **for himself**. All because he thought that there would be more information in another timeline to help him solve 1949’s problems – of the Wolf Spider variety.

But that was all a lie.

1949’s problems could not be solved by running to another timeline. 2012’s information was only a guide, and even then, a sparse one that did not have complete information. Returning the Tesseract to 1970 was all well and good, but it was too late where Michael was concerned.

Michael of 1949 already knew too much from talking with Steve.

“I’m sorry,” he apologize, even though he knew that it would not be enough.

Natasha didn’t answer, though she did turn away to sit against the bed’s headboard, giving him some more space between the two of them. Bucky heard her zipper up her outfit, but didn’t glance over at her. Instead, he brought up his left hand, and stared at the bangle wrapped around his wrist.

“2012 only happened the way it did because we messed up when we tried to grab the Tesseract from that timeline,” Natasha explained. Out of the corner of his eyes, Bucky saw her draw up her knees to her chest, before resting her chin on her knees.

“Loki was a known agent of Thanos. Who the hell knew if the timeline for Thanos’ collection of the stones had been accelerated because Loki got away? We didn’t want the possibility of Thanos snapping everyone away, happening sooner than 2018,” she continued to say after a moment.

“1970 wasn’t supposed to happen the way it did… has now, hasn’t it?” Bucky quietly asked.

“Get in, return the stone, steal a vial of Pym Particles, and get out,” Natasha stated. “Doc has it right: the 60’s and 70’s were definitely an era of recreational drug experimentation among the populace. SHIELD may have been able to pass off a visage of ‘Captain America’ within their facility as psychotropic drugs in the water.”

“Then why didn’t Banner tell me to stop?” Bucky questioned. “Why encourage me to continue – to get help for Steve?”

“Same thing that Director Carter questioned you on, James,” Natasha pointed out. “You didn’t have to give them information about the Winter Soldier or Wolf Spider. You could have let the Bucharest mission gone on, and just merely save Steve in the Arctic. You could have stopped yourself, but—”

“I didn’t,” Bucky finished up, letting his left hand drop down onto the bed. “Peggy even offered to stop listening to the information I provided after I told her about Steve. God fucking dammit,” he muttered.

“This is why I didn’t want Steve to save myself from a life in the shadows in your timeline, James,” Natasha said, her voice gentle. “No matter how much I suffered, how much I know my younger self will suffer in the future, I can’t do that. Steve going back in time to September 24th, 1946 was his selfish mistake. He learned his lesson… and he still is learning it.”

“Before he left to ask your commander to reopen the Brooklyn facility, he said to his wife: ‘No person or country, not even myself, should have this much power. The corruption, the influence, and the want to change – for better or worse – is too great. The world must decide on their own, the path they want to take. I cannot – I will not – take away their freedom of choice, no matter what may happen.’,” Natasha stated.

Bucky glanced away from her, feeling guilt flood him. It didn’t help him any further as he found himself looking out of the one-way window Howard had installed in the facility, to see Peggy and Steve walking along the winding paths of the campus. Peggy was gesticulating about something in her explanation, and Steve was staring at her, rapt with attention.

“Even the Wolf Spider said something similar to Tony that very first night when Steve showed all of you his memories,” she continued.

“So you think Michael is, or has always been the Wolf Spider?”

“Does it matter what I think, James?” Natasha asked. “I’m a product of my time, not yours.”

Bucky glanced over at her. There was no impish smile, or a teasing flirtatious expression in her eyes. They were as serious as he had ever seen them – as serious as Steve’s eyes when concentrated deep within the mission.

“Go see what you have wrought, James,” she stated. “We’ll be with you if anything happens.”

“Before you leave, Natalia,” he began, bringing up his left hand so she could visibly see the bangle. “Tell me this one truth, please. Banner said that it’s more difficult for any of you to hold back the tide when the stones are together. We’re about to give the Tesseract back soon. What’s coming after that, the Reality Stone, and Soul Stone?”

Natasha didn’t answer for a few long moments. “You saw how easy it was for Thanos to snap away life. You saw how simple it was for Bruce to snap life back. Each stone returned… is a part of the agreement Tony, Bruce, and myself made with Ghost Rider. To permanently end this cycle of life and death—”

“So that if someone ever collects the stones again…” Bucky began, realizing just how enormous the ripples were becoming with the collected Infinity Stones that needed to be rescattered.

“Yes,” Natasha nodded to his unfinished statement. “That’s the hope.”

“Then who will be released when the Tesseract is returned?”

“Either Proxima Midnight or Corvus Glaive,” Natasha answered. “Steve, Sam, and I fought both of them before – they’re tough together, but individually…”

“Release one of them here then,” Bucky said, closing his eyes for a brief moment. “Preferably not within the vicinity of here or SHIELD Headquarters.”

“We’ll try,” was all she said as Bucky opened his eyes again.

Natasha faded away a few seconds later. The weight disappeared from the bed, but the imprint of where she had been remained. Absently, and slightly curious, Bucky reached out with his right and touched the area where she sat.

It felt warm.

Shaking his head slightly, he withdrew his hand and got up. Brushing himself off, he adjusted his clothes before tapping the pattern to activate the ‘Captain America’ uniform. It settled over him as snugly as it had before, but this time, faced with the knowledge and realization of just what he had done, the uniform felt _heavy_.

But, it was as Natasha had said: he needed to reap what he had sowed.

Exiting his room, he headed down the halls to the containment area of the facility. He hated the fact that his counterpart, along with the Winter Guard had to be kept in the containment area, but he had heard that the six had collectively tried to break free the moment they woke up. Howard’s associates working here had gassed the six to subdue them.

It disgusted Bucky. But at the same time, he knew that it was conditioned into the six to try to escape from enemy territory by any means necessary. He had fuzzy memories of himself doing the same when he had been held at that Bering Sea facility.

Howard had given him an access pin, but Bucky had not taken advantage of that to test it out. Instead, since Steve had woken up, he had remained mostly in his room.

Most of it was because he was exhausted and needed to heal. He only left his room to find something to eat – to bring back and eat in his room.

Bucky had thought that perhaps Steve would have come to visit, but he hadn’t. Instead, the one time Alex had came to check up on him, was when he had learned that Peggy had ordered everyone who knew about him to not say a word. The reasoning behind it was to allow Steve to slowly acclimate to his new reality – transported from 1945 to the modern era of 1970.

It was a smart move by Peggy. Steve did not need the rather confusion, if not overwhelming information of time travel just yet. Bucky remembered just how long it had taken him to accept his timeline’s Steve traveling through time.

And, if or when he would inevitably run into Steve in this facility, he could attempt to maintain his distance from Steve. If not for the sake of his counterpart here.

As he passed the medical area of the facility, Alex suddenly emerged from one of the rooms. He was not dressed in his usual white laboratory coat, and seemed to have shed that. In his hand was a leather bag.

“Feeling better, Bucky?”

“Yeah,” he answered.

Glancing down at his feet for a moment, he knew that he had to begin to break the ties he had here – even if he didn’t want to break the fledgling friendship he had with Alex. With the knowledge that Alex liked him, he found it similar to how David had confessed his own feelings for him.

Unlike David, Bucky knew that he could not continue to be friends with him. He had to keep himself and the distance between them professional. To hopefully give Alex – and his counterpart here – a clean slate to begin with.

That was, if his counterpart would ever recover.

Bucky mentally shook his head. “You might want to take the same leaflet that your sister is taking with my name, Doc,” he stated, returning his attention to Alex.

There was a slightly puzzled look in Alex’s eyes, but then he frowned. “James,” Alex stated as if he were pronouncing a non-English word.

“Sorry,” Bucky softly answered.

Alex remained silent. Just as Bucky was about to leave, Alex spoke up, saying, “I’m going to do some checkups on the Winter Guard, James. Would you like to accompany me? It would make me feel better to know that you’re watching for any signs in the security room.”

“Sure,” he answered, keeping his tone neutral but agreeable.

While he didn’t doubt that Stark’s security measures were robust, the fact that the Winter Guard and Winter Soldier himself had all tried to escape did warrant his own presence within the security room. If any of them attempted escape again, Bucky would be poised to respond quickly – and with immediate force.

Following Alex, it didn’t take too long to reach the security room. The cells themselves were a little ways down the same hall, except behind keycards, alpha-numeric codes, and surprisingly, a thumbprint scanner.

Entering it, Bucky stopped short as he saw Peggy there. Alex had also stopped, and was looking slightly surprised. She was standing in the middle of the room, pensive in looks, and with her arms crossed over her chest.

Bucky glanced over towards the monitors. The five Winter Guard members were still locked up, but to his surprise, the back of Steve’s head dominated a small portion of the cameras situated on the Winter Soldier.

He approached and stood next to Peggy. Alex did so as well, understanding that perhaps Steve was making a breakthrough – or needed some time alone to talk to the Winter Soldier.

“You got audio muted on the microphones?” Bucky asked, briefly taking a look at the technicians at the consoles, who were fiddling with a few dials and switches on the board.

“No,” Peggy surprisingly answered. “Steve went in there ten minutes ago. Visited Michael and the others first. Michael didn’t seem to recognize him at all. He’s been staring at… you… your counterpart here for at least two minutes now.”

“Seems?” Bucky picked up on the slight uncertainty in Peggy’s tone.

“We’re running some algorithms that Mr. Stark cooked up last night on the recorded videos to see if there’s any pattern changes from when both Director and Dr. Carter went in,” one of the technicians stated.

“You can do that?” Bucky asked, amazed.

One of the technicians laughed and nodded. At the same time, Bucky felt a strange warmth that felt like laughter bloom in the back of his mind. He could only assume that it was Natasha – or worse yet, Tony Stark himself, laughing.

“1970’s technology at its finest,” Peggy answered, giving him a small smile.

Bucky nodded, impressed. Before he could marvel at the wonders of what even a couple of decades in leaps of technology yielded, Steve crouched. Bucky could only guess it was to presumably be eye-level with the Winter Soldier sitting on the slab of uncomfortable metal.

“Bucky?” they heard Steve softly but earnestly question.

“Who the hell is Bucky?”

Bucky couldn’t help but physically flinch at the harsh tone. He ignored the look of concern that Alex gave him, but did notice that Peggy’s expression had turned sorrowful.

“Don’t you remember me, Buck?” Steve’s earnest tone had turned towards despairing. Silence answered Steve’s question. “It’s me, Steve. Steve Rogers.”

There was continued silence, as Bucky saw his counterpart resolutely glare at Steve. No recognition, or even a sign of it shone in his eyes.

“Your name is James Buchanan Barnes,” he heard Steve softly say. “You’ve known me your entire life. We grew up together in Brooklyn, Buck. How could you not remember any of that?”

Bucky glanced away from the screen and took a few steps away from the others gathered. He took some deep breaths, trying to calm the unusual ache in his heart. When he looked back up at the screens, Steve was no longer there.

It was depressing to see and hear the words coming out of Steve’s lips. Especially since he had seen a variation of it in his timeline’s Steve’s memories. But those words had been said during a fight—

The door to the security room suddenly opened.

“Peggy, what can I do to—”

Bucky glanced up, only to find himself staring directly at Steve, who had unexpectedly burst through the door to ask his question. A quick glance over towards Peggy and the others told him that they had also not expected Steve to come here after he left the area.

“Who—what the—” Steve’s baffled expression rapidly slid into anger.

“Agent James Barnes, SSR,” Bucky immediately stated in a business-like manner, going over while sticking out his hand for Steve to shake.

His brusque, uncharacteristic manner was enough to shake Steve out of his stupor. As Bucky quickly shook Steve’s hand, he continued to say, “Accidental transportation brought me here. I’m from another reality. Director Carter can brief you about it.”

Bucky let go, and brushed past Steve, saying, “I’m sorry about what happened to your friend, Captain Rogers.”

Without waiting for Steve or the others to react, he then left.

* * *

_Later…_

Peggy looked up and over as the door to the security room opened. “Bit late to be up, Agent?” she questioned, as Bucky – James, she had to now remember to call him – walked in. He was wearing his Captain America uniform.

Bucky here and now was sitting in the containment cell, confused, but still somewhat hostile towards everything. That included the medical checkup that Alex had attempted several hours ago.

It had been several hours since then, but no one had returned to the cells except for the technicians whose duties was to give their… wards, something to eat.

She didn’t want to call Bucky, Michael, and the others of the Winter Guard prisoners. Yet, holding them within the containment cells was a prison. Gassing them when they tried to escape was exactly how SHIELD treated prisoners who attempted the same.

Peggy knew it was in their nature – perhaps programming – to find a way to escape. Yet, neither Alex or Howard hadn’t even touched the tip of the proverbial iceberg of just _how_ they would undo the programming wrought on the six.

“Couldn’t sleep,” James stated, taking an empty seat and bringing it close to her.

He sat heavily in the seat, making it creak a little more than usual. But it had been built robustly enough that Peggy knew it would be able to hold the weight of a super-soldier.

“How did Steve take the news?” James quietly asked her after a few minutes of silent observations along the screens.

All six were currently asleep, or feigning sleep. Peggy wasn’t sure. Even with the resolution that Howard’s custom-made cameras provided wasn’t enough for her to discern if all of their closed eyes and even breaths were real or not.

It was how the six had attempted to break out the first time. Feign sleep and then when they were sure that security was lulled to complacency in the middle of the night, they tried to escape.

“Not…well,” Peggy stated.

She would only offer the truth to James now. He did, after all, keep his promise about bringing Steve and the others home, but she sensed that he was holding something back. Something that perhaps, prevented him from returning the Tesseract and leaving.

“I can only imagine,” James softly stated, glancing down at his hands, before returning his attention onto her. “You were beyond livid when Steve revealed that he jumped through time. Kept that secret from you for two years and wrapped it up using your presumption that he had spent a year away to ‘finish’ unfinished business.”

“And yet… I still forgave him?” she asked, curious.

A faint smile quirked up his lips. “Yeah,” he answered. That faint smile turned into a frown quite quickly though. “He… he still kept a lot of secrets from you… to protect you. Because in 1949, you had a lot of burdens to deal with yourself. I think he meant to not overwhelm you… just like you’re doing for Steve here.”

“But not you,” Peggy stated, realizing just what may have happened between the three of them in James’ reality. “You forgave him—”

“Hell no, I didn’t, Peggy,” James interrupted, shaking his head slightly. “I never will, but I trust and know why he did what he did. Too much power for one individual.”

“Absolute power, corrupts absolutely,” she softly stated, nodding once. “But he still told you more than he’s told my counterpart.”

“Steve was the one who fought and stopped the Winter Soldier in his reality,” she heard him quietly state. His voice was low enough that the technicians could not hear him. “Similar words exchanged and all.”

“It hurts to hear them in the present, rather than in memories,” she said, sympathizing as she reached out and gently patted his hand.

“That could have been me,” James quietly admitted. “That was me… that was almost me. I want Zola arrested, before I’ll return the Tesseract.”

Peggy nodded, before glancing up at the screens. “What about discerning whether or not Michael is the Wolf Spider in your reality?”

“A futile effort—” James began, then stopped as he frowned, looking at the screens. “Is is possible to enhance the resolution on the cameras pointed at Michael’s cell? On his face?”

“Zoom?” Peggy questioned.

“Uh, yeah, I suppose,” James answered, getting up from his seat and stopped to stand behind the technicians.

Peggy had also gotten up, and nodded at the technicians to enhance and zoom with the cameras as best as possible. The frown on James’ face became a little more pronounced. She glanced back at the cameras, now focused closely on Michael. The image was grainy, but Peggy through she saw a faint twitch across Michael’s lips—

“Shit—” James suddenly said. “Gas—now!” he shouted, running out of the room.

Peggy smashed the red button at the center of the consoles, before she tore out after him. A whooping klaxon – just like the first time – blared over the loudspeakers. Skidding out into the wide hall, she saw that the door to the containment cell was already open—

Her eyes widened with fear, surprise, and shock as she saw James fly out, thrown far and clear of the threshold. Not a split second later, a black blur with silver and red followed that trajectory.

She immediately pulled out her pistol, but the fist fight between James and the Winter Soldier was incredibly fast. Almost too fast for her to follow, much less train her gun to be steady on either of them. Each choke hold, vicious kick, flip onto the ground, wall busting punch, or wrenching twist of arms between the two was intensely swift – like a viper striking.

Peggy could hear bones being cracked, metal arm clashing against metal arm. High-pitched whines rose and ebbed like the awful scrape of an out-of-tune violin. Howard’s security team would get here in less than two minutes, but she didn’t know if they would be here in time.

Their eyes – both James Barnes of the two realities’ eyes were absolutely blank. They were trying to **kill** each other—

“Bucky, stop!”

Peggy bit off the cry of anguish and horror as Steve suddenly appeared. He rammed into the Winter Soldier like an American football linebacker. She saw Steve yank the Winter Soldier away from James, partially throwing him to the side.

“Stop!” Steve cried again.

To Peggy’s surprise, the Winter Soldier did stop. But it was only for two seconds; even if in those two seconds, Peggy thought she saw a tiny flash of recognition, or confusion run across those eyes of his.

But the Winter Soldier was not easily cowed. Peggy watched, terrified, as the Winter Soldier rolled right up and charged directly towards Steve, determined to engage him in a brutal fight. Fists were flying everywhere, as she watched Steve block, and continue to block. He was being forced back—

And with the brief moment of reprieve granted, Peggy saw James rejoin the fight, taking the heat off Steve. It was two against one – but James’ eyes were still frighteningly blank.

It was also becoming clear to Peggy that the flow of hand-to-hand combat techniques, even if she couldn’t discern most of it, was coming from both James and the Winter Soldier. Both of them had been trained up. It was Steve who was slowly slipping away from the edge of the upper hand.

Yet, even as blank as James’ eyes were, Peggy thought she was seeing him give way to Steve’s less finessed fighting skills. It was Steve who kicked the Winter Soldier back, hard enough to make the Winter Soldier stumble.

“Please, Bucky,” Steve pleaded, dropping his arms to his side. “I don’t wanna fight you. We made a promise – don’t you remember? I’m with you, until the end of the line, pal.”

The clatter of security personnel coming down a hall was clearly heard. Peggy saw Alex run into the hall. She waved him back, as he immediately dropped his medical bag. He quickly shed his white laboratory coat – tossing that to the side.

They both knew that James’ reaction to the white coat when he had first appeared, was indicative of extremely bad memories. Peggy hadn’t needed a psychological diagnosis that it was possible PTSD from whatever Zola had done in his ‘experiments’. There was a sound assumption that the Winter Soldier also had the same memories.

James had also paused, but his back was towards Peggy’s point of view. She couldn’t tell if he still had that blank look in his eyes. She didn’t dare lift her pistol at the moment – not trusting that she would be even able to fire. She didn’t want to hurt any of them, yet she did not want to holster her weapon, just in case.

James’ left arm suddenly dropped to the side, curled in a fist. Suddenly, it looked as if there were some blue-black clouds forming around James—

The Winter Soldier struck.

It was not at Steve, but directly at James. Lightning fast, and definitely faster than what Peggy had seen minutes ago. Something tiny flew out of James’ left hand, as the Winter Soldier and James were quickly re-engaged in a savage fist-fight.

For a moment, Peggy’s attention was not drawn to the fight, but what was dropped. It was the Tesseract, and it was tinier than she had anticipated. Almost similar to a delicate stone that could be set in a bangle.

The stone glowed not harshly as she had seen it before, but strangely softly. Peggy didn’t waste any time and grabbed the nearest metal object she could find – which happened to be the spilled out medical tongs from Alex’s bag.

Just as she picked up the Tesseract with the tongs, something else suddenly appeared—

~~~

Dizzy and bereft of the suddenly ice-cold stabbing from the Tesseract, Bucky winced. His left arm didn’t ache, but the whine from countering the force of his counterpart’s kick did not sound good at all.

He blocked the high, roundhouse kick at his chest with his wrists, clamping his hands around the booted foot of his counterpart. Twisting, and wrenching away, he managed to unbalance his counterpart just enough to let go and kick him back – hard.

But he needed that Tesseract back – needed to take advantage of transporting directly behind his counterpart to subdue him. Bucky turned—

And came face-to-face with the pole of a glaive, attached to an outstretched arm. That arm belong to a grey, ugly and elongated alien with a cruel smile upon his face. Bucky blinked once – one of Thanos’ Generals, Corvus Glaive, he realized – and then glanced down.

He could only see the end of the blade resting against the vibranium-weaved armor covering his stomach – where silver met pole.

Red blood – his blood – was pooling at the site. Bucky coughed once, feeling something warm and sticky dribble out of his lips. That dizziness he was feeling had become acutely stronger, and the world around him more faded and white—

Someone was screaming…

A flash of red hair crossed his vision…

Someone was shouting his name…

A pair of strong arms tugged at him…

Someone was yelling…

A burning smell seared across his nose…

Bucky snapped his eyes open; immediately forcing himself to get up—only to find that he was feeling incredibly weak. Enough that it was sudden shock to him – just as an acute pain lanced up from his stomach.

“< _You keep moving like that, and you’re going to tear that stitch. Ruin Dr. Carter’s hard work._ >”

He blinked, focusing his eyes on the voice directly in front of him. It sounded like Natasha. He became more aware he was lying on something soft, with a distinct sterile smell enveloping him.

A hospital. He was in a hospital again—

“< _And also piss off your counterpart again; enough that I think he might just consider going another round with you. Just to beat some sense into you again._ >”

Blinking some more, Bucky’s eyes finally cleared. Natasha was leaning against the wall, but her appearance was not what he had expected. The blue-black veins that wound around her neck were gone, replaced by angry red ones.

“< _Jesus fucking Christ, I forgot how much of an annoyance you were, little cat._ >”

Bucky snapped his eyes over to his left, only to see his counterpart of all people, sitting next to him, and a rather strange-looking machine. There was an IV and tube in his counterpart’s right arm, and blood was going into the machine. In turn, another tube with blood was traveling out of the machine… and up into his own right arm.

It was his counterpart who had said that to Natasha – calling her ‘little cat’.

“What the—” Bucky began, attempting to reach over, but finding that he was too weak to even move much.

“Transfusion, James,” Natasha stated, shaking her head. “Corvus Glaive’s blade had some seriously nasty stuff embedded within it. Transfusion was the only way to save your life. You’re lucky your counterpart has his noggin reset, and agreed to this.”

Bucky frowned. He glanced over towards his counterpart, but there was nothing on the mirror that he faced. Except for longer hair and circles around his eyes that indicated fatigue, his counterpart looked exactly like him.

But it was slightly movement beyond his counterpart that drew his attention for a moment. To his surprise, he saw Steve, sitting near them. There was another machine – another transfusion machine hooked up to him. But the blood being drawn from Steve was only going on – no way out.

Alex was standing near Steve, tapping at the screens surrounding the machines. Both had looked up and over as soon as he had spoken.

The familiar look of relief, and smile upon Steve’s face – directed at him – was slightly disconcerting. Even Alex, who was not wearing the white laboratory coat but still had his stethoscope around his neck, looked incredibly relieved.

Bucky returned his attention onto Natasha. “Start at the beginning?” he asked.

He felt as if he had missed an enormous part of what happened between him realizing that that he had been stabbed by Corvus Glaive, and waking up. Namely, how his counterpart, who had clearly shown no signs of cognitive recognition, aggression, and need to escape confinement, was here.

Unsecured, and sitting plainly in a chair – while being a blood bank.

“Director Carter picked up the stone with a pair of tongs, not knowing what the consequences were. Vibranium weaved armor wasn’t enough to stop Corvus Glaive’s blade,” Natasha stated. “Seeing you get stabbed point blank did something to knock some memories into your counterpart.”

Bucky glanced over to see his counterpart silently nod at her words.

“Glaive tried to rip the time device off your wrist. He got close to succeeding. I forced Ghost Rider to put me into a state where I was able to interact, and help Steve and your counterpart kill Glaive. Ghost Rider acquiesced to the demand. Seems our spirit of vengeance ‘friend’ didn’t want to lose Glaive’s dead body.”

“So… they know about Steve – my reality’s Steve’s mission?” Bucky asked.

“Only the relevant parts,” Natasha answered. “I’m currently wielding the Reality Stone to keep my form until you’re healed up. It’s been a few days.”

“And a few more still, before it will be safe to allow your serum to naturally heal the rest of the wound,” Alex stated, coming over.

For a brief moment, Bucky saw Steve get up from where his blood was being drawn into the machine. He was rubbing the inside of his elbow where the IV had been put into him.

“Agent Romanov, if you would please?” Alex began, going over to what Bucky could only assume was the transfusion machine.

Natasha stood up and approached, but maneuvered her way around the bed, other monitoring machines, and the like to stand on the other side of the transfusion machine. Then, she reached out with both of her hands – first covering Bucky’s counterpart’s eyes, and then covering his.

“Nat—?” Bucky questioned. But he never got to finish as he was suddenly plunged into a memory—

_I_ _t was Steve’s t_ _enth_ _birthday. July the fourth._ _Mrs. Rogers – Auntie Sarah – had the day off, and they were all on the rooftop of the apartment building Steve and Auntie Sarah lived. They were waiting with excitement for the fireworks to begin._

 _Mom, Becca, Samantha, Agnes, and him – Bucky. It had also been f_ _ive_ _months since the Barnes patriarch had died. Bucky was glad – he felt free._

_He craned his neck down from staring up at the sky, and glanced over at Steve. Steve was bouncing in excitement, expression gleeful and happy. Steve occasionally bumped into him, or Auntie Sarah, who sat next to Steve on Steve’s right._

_It was Steve’s tenth birthday, and Bucky had already given his best friend a birthday present. He had received a bone-crushing hug – well, relative to Steve’s strength – in response to the present. It had made him happy, his stomach fluttering longer than it usually did whenever he was hugged by Steve._

_H_ _e wanted to tell Steve – about liking – no – loving him more than words could ever express. Well, more than the words that Becca crammed into his mind that is. That was what he really wanted his present to Steve to be._

_But out of the corner of his eyes, he caught his mother looking at him. She shook her head once, seemingly knowing what he was thinking. Her word of warning from the first time his father had beaten him up returned:_

_<_ _The world is a_ _dangerous_ _and cruel place for those who do not believe in boundaries_ _when in_ _love._ _Let it define you, my son, but do not let it consume you._ _>_

 _Bucky’_ _s eyes crinkled in sadness for a moment. Mom didn’t know, but he and Becca had taken a ‘shortcut’ home a few days ago. It was only to avoid the gang of bullies so that they wouldn’t lose their groceries for the day to the bullies._

_He would have gladly beaten them up, but with the size of them, and amount, he would need Steve and at least Tom from two floors down to help. He couldn’t beat the bullies up by himself – and especially not while trying to defend Becca at the same time._

_The ‘shortcut’_ _had taken them through a rather dangerous area. At least it had felt dangerous to Becca –_ _she had said it to him_ _. To Bucky, it was fascinating to explore_ _an area where people were dressed in clothes that didn’t seem to cover much of them._

 _Most of the denizens – thank you, Becca – had taken one look at them, and then shoo’ed them quickly away._ _Bucky had even heard of a few contemplating calling the police to escort ‘two children’ out of the place. But those whispers were quickly silenced_ _by more biting hisses from others._

_Bucky had led the way, carrying the heav_ _ier of the two bags. Becca followed closely behind him, occasionally tugging on his shirt to slow him down. They tromped through the ‘shortcut’, always headed towards the north-west, to where their home was._

_It was in an alleyway, one block away from the main_ _thoroughfare_ _that would bring them back to their normal route home, that they had_ _encountered_ _a_ _wall. It was not a traditional brick wall, but one that required them to squeeze through the tiny hole in the ‘wall’ that people had constructed out of old and discarded items._

_B_ _ucky sent Becca out first, while he kept an eye on their two bags of groceries. As she wriggled her way through, it was the faint, strange sounds from the adjacent alleyway that had briefly caught his attention._

_Taking a couple of steps away from Becca as she continued to make her way through, Bucky had taken a peek into the adjacent alleyway, curious as to what the noise was. What he saw almost caused him to drop the heavy bag of groceries._

_Two people were kissing in the shadows where the reflected sunlight from another building did not quite brighten the area. He had seen people kissing before – in the movies, sometimes in the parks, and even when his parents had done so long ago. None of those kisses_ _**looked** _ _like what he was seeing at the moment – almost as if the two were strangely lovingly devouring each other._

 _Yet, i_ _t was not the description of the kiss – thank you, Becca, again – that had truly caught Bucky’s curiosity and fascination._ _It was t_ _he fact that the two people kissing were not a man and a woman._

_T_ _wo men._

_Two men kissing each other. He had learned recently through the papers_ _on some scandal_ _that something like that was illegal – immoral as the papers had described it. A heinous sin upon the eyes of God._ _P_ _unishable by death._

 _Bucky didn’t know what to think,_ _except that h_ _e didn’t want t_ _he two to die._ _The two men kissing – tenderly, he realized – in the shadows of the alleyway looked beautiful and terrifying at the same time. Becca’s hiss of his name snapped him out of his staring._

 _Now, at the present, with his mother’s warning, and everything else that happened in recent days at the forefront of his thoughts,_ _Bucky stared up at the sky again. His mother hadn’t even made a comment about th_ _at particular day’s_ _paper’s headlines, and she always had a comment or two._

_He wanted to tell Steve; he wasn’t intending to even kiss Steve – not yet. He wanted to defy his mother, but he also didn’t want to die._

_It was Steve’s birthday. As the fireworks finally started to_ _light the inky skies and_ _explode, Bucky_ _decided to keep his mouth shut. Next year, he would tell Steve._ _And then, maybe the year after, he would kiss Steve._

_In secret._

_It had to be all in secret. Because his mother’s words were right: t_ _he world w_ _as_ _a_ _dangerous_ _and cruel place for those who d_ _id_ _not believe in boundaries—_

Bucky gasped as he was pulled abruptly out of the memory. Natasha’s hand pulled away from his eyes, but it was the lack of pain he felt on his right arm that drew his gaze down.

The IV and tube that had carried blood into him was gone. Alex was cleaning up at the machine. Bucky’s counterpart also no longer had an IV stuck to him—

“Now that Agent Barnes is awake, are the two of you going to chat for a bit, Bucky?” Steve’s unexpected question came from near the entrance to the medical room.

“Hell, no,” Bucky answered, giving Steve an offended look.

“< _Fuck, no._ >” his counterpart had stated in Russian at exactly the same time.

“Language—” Steve began, looking apologetic at Natasha.

Natasha’s genuine, rich laughter had both him and his counterpart glaring at her. Bucky felt just slightly more annoyed, if not grumpier than he was, when Steve and Alex joined in.

“Shoo, all of you. It’s time for me to make James feel guilty,” Natasha then said, as Bucky saw his counterpart get up, rubbing the inside of his elbow the same way that Steve had done so.

“< _Or annoy the shit out of him, little cat._ >” he heard his counterpart mutter before striding out the door.

Natasha closed the door as the others left. Bucky watched her as she then pulled the chair where his counterpart had been sitting, to sit next to him. He waited for her to speak.

“Steve, this reality’s Steve knows the bare basics of what happened to our Steve,” she explained. “He agreed to pack away some blood for you to bring back. So you can transfuse it into our Steve. Howard’s building a pared-down version of the machines here to make it more transportable.”

“He didn’t have to do that,” Bucky muttered, glancing down at the sheets covering his lap.

Ever since realizing just how selfish he had been in coming here, he didn’t think it right to even ask Steve for some blood for transfusion. It was the only reason why he had rescued Steve from the Arctic.

Thankfully, Natasha didn’t say a word and instead, pushed on, saying, “I haven’t told Peggy that we need a vial of Pym Particles. She’s keeping her promise to you. She’s been traveling back and forth between here and SHIELD Headquarters, trying to find a way to drum up charges to arrest Zola. The Tesseract remains here, and no one outside of Howard, certain employees of his, and Dr. Carter know that Steve, your counterpart, and the Winter Guard are alive.”

Bucky nodded. After a few seconds, he returned his attention onto her. “Just how much does my counterpart remember?”

“A lot more than he’s letting on. Same kind of look I’ve seen before from you in my reality. I don’t know what memories though,” Natasha admitted.

“So how’d you do it?” he asked, narrowing his eyes slightly. “With the Reality Stone?”

She was quiet for a few moments, pensive. “Same thing that I was doing earlier to distract both of you from Dr. Carter pulling out the IV,” she stated. “I’m sure you’ve already experienced the hungry feeling you get in the back of your mind. The Reality Stone seeks memories to sate it. I pulled on some common ones that I had with the Winter Soldier to get the ball rolling.”

Bucky thought he heard some sentiment in her tone, but didn’t call her out on it. Whatever common memories the two had, was their own. This was yet another divergent path that he did not need to further involve himself in.

“Natalia,” he said as Natasha stood up and made to leave to let him rest.

“James,” she answered in kind.

“Thank you.”

* * *

The next few days Bucky spent recovering from whatever the hell that glaive of Corvus Glaive had done to him were the first in a very long while that he felt he could relax. But only somewhat, as Natasha’s daily updates on the progression of trying to find sufficient evidence to successfully prosecute Zola for crimes against Humanity, yielded dead end after dead end.

There was also the matter of Michael and the others of the Winter Guard. None of them showed signs of recovery from their programming; even with Alex attending to them. Natasha had some common memories with the five, but had stated that they were not the same kind that she had with the Winter Soldier.

Just that statement alone was enough for Bucky to realize just what her meaning of ‘difficult’ meant – when it came to the memories of the Winter Soldier. It also made it just a little more tragic that while his counterpart in her reality did not remember, she did. And it seemed she remembered everything that happened between them.

Bucky still did not press her for the commonality memories, but a chance glimpse into the journal that his counterpart had taken to writing while they were both hooked up to the transfusion machine, was all he got. It was not much, but it was enough for him to pull aside the folder he had been carrying, and unlock it.

The 2012 folder had been removed and placed to the side when he had been unconscious. Bucky didn’t know how they did it, but he was grateful that it had not been destroyed when Glaive had stabbed him.

“Here,” he said, reaching over – stronger now – and passed the rectangular block over to his counterpart.

As if sensing that the information contained would be of some help towards recovering more memories – or at least informing those memories, his counterpart took it. To Bucky’s surprise, instead of closing the journal, his counterpart handed it to him.

Gingerly opening it, Bucky couldn’t help the frown that tugged on the edges of his lips. He flipped a few pages forward, confirming what he suspected. The first ten entries were the commands to create and activate the Winter Soldier.

[желание, ржaвый, семнадцать, рассвет, печь, девять, добросердечный, возвращение на родину, один, грузовой вагон]

Bucky didn’t need to read through the entries to know what the memories extracted were. The next few entries were the stop commands – all of them. And then, the divergence from his memories after the war to his counterpart’s own.

Those were the ones that Bucky read through. Comparing them against what he remembered and read in the 2012 folder.

It was even more awful to read in his counterpart – his own handwriting – the deeds he… the Winter Soldier had done. Clinical reports didn’t do any of the assassinations or collateral damages justice.

The door to the room opened. Alex walked in with Natasha following, and Bucky slammed the journal shut – at the same time his counterpart deactivated the folder. The young doctor gave both of them a mild look. Natasha just shook her head in exasperation.

Without any prompting, Natasha then went over to stand at her usual spot, and reached out with her red-vein laced hands to envelope both of their eyes. Bucky took a deep breath and was plunged into a memory—

“ _Hey.”_

_Bucky looked around, realizing that it was not a memory, but rather a static imprint of the apartment he – they – had shared with their respective Steve. His counterpart was sitting at the dining table that doubled as Steve’s work table._

_Bucky pulled up the other chair and sat opposite of him. “Neat trick,” he commented._

“ _Watching Natalia do what she does with t_ _hat stone_ _gave me this idea,” his counterpart stated, sounding tired but strong. “_ _Wasn’t feeling like a trip down broken memory lane again.”_

“ _Sorry,” he apologized. “If I’m driving most of the common memories.”_

“ _You’re worried about him,” his counterpart stated, folding his hands together and rested them on the table. “I would be too, with all things considered. Can’t—”_

“— _always fix stupid,” Bucky finished up. “Yeah.”_

“ _He knows?” his counterpart quietly asked after a few moments of silence. “Steve… your time-jumping reality Steve knows… about you… about us? What we’ve held in our hearts—”_

“ _Twenty,” Bucky gently interrupted. “He realized it when he was twenty.”_

“ _Ten for us,” his counterpart murmured. “Circumstances came too late, then.”_

_Bucky looked down at his own folded hands. “There is… a chance,” he said, looking back up. “For the two of you here.”_

_He saw his counterpart look away, unsure. “Give it time,” he said after a moment._

“ _What if,” his counterpart began. “What if Steve doesn’t want… me?”_

“ _Does it matter?” he questioned. “We both know that it’s not going to change your convictions. It will hurt, but you’ll learn to live with it. Like I have—”_

“ _By running into Michael’s bed?” his counterpart said, tone suddenly hard._

_Sharp eyes met his own. Bucky did not glance away, but he did see admonishment in his counterpart’s eyes._

“ _Its not hard to figure you out, after what Steve – your Steve – did to change timelines,” his counterpart stated. “And why you saved the Winter Guard team instead of killing them a_ _ll, like you should have done.”_

“ _Wolf Spider?” Bucky asked._

“ _Wolf Spider,” his counterpart confirmed. “_ _He was only enhanced.”_

 _The image around them rippled into the familiar walls and atmosphere of an underground facility._ _Bucky saw the last vestiges of the electricity driving into his counterpart’s head. The echoes of his screams felt raw in his own mouth – as if he were screaming along with him as well._

“ _< Soldier?>”_

 _A_ _man with a small red notebook approached, closing it. He had stated that question at the Winter Soldier. But then, the man pulled another observer, and shoved the man in front of the Winter Soldier._

_It took Bucky a moment to realize that the unkempt-looking man was Michael. Michael was crying, sobbing almost uncontrollably and looking regretful._

“ _< Do you recognize this man, soldier?>” the man asked._

_Silence answered the question._

“ _< Soldier?>” __the man questioned again._

 _Bucky heard his own self, his counterpart, croak out,_ “< _Ready to comply._ >”

_He felt a chill crawl down his spine, as the man with the red notebook let Michael go. Not a moment later, Michael straightened up. Gone was the grief-stricken expression, replaced by a blankness that matched what he’d seen in Howard’s containment chamber footage._

_Disgust, followed by unease, and cold anger followed. Bucky had his confirmation in this memory; that Michael had always been the Wolf Spider, even during the war._

“ _I—” he began._

“ _We,” his counterpart stated, causing him to glance up._ _The memory_ _had_ _faded away and was replaced by the static apartment._

“ _We were seduced,” his counterpart said. “Plain and simple. Stolen kisses. Comforting arms. An ear to listen to worries._ _An affirmation of what we are with no judgments. Killers to the core._ _”_

“ _Steve understood all of that the same,” Bucky whispered. “My reality’s Steve, his reality’s Bucky. You_ _have the chance to_ _find the same here.”_

“ _But only if I don’t succumb to t_ _he commands._ _Don’t lose what memories that I’ve recovered. E_ _verything HYDRA stuffed into my head is still there,” his counterpart_ _said, melancholic_ _._

“ _Zola is still alive,” Bucky said, as a rather terrible but possibly brilliant idea came to him._

“ _There’s something else you want from this reality, isn’t there, Agent?” his counterpart asked._

 _Bucky nodded. “I’m not going to ask for it until_ _that bastard is six feet under._ _It may not_ _help with the commands stuck in your head, but it might prove a little satisfying_ _to see justice being served._ _Want to help?”_

_T_ _he smile that graced his counterpart’s lips, tight and feral that spoke to his own heart, matched his own—_

And remained on both of their lips as Bucky blinked and found himself – and his counterpart returned to reality. Alex was once again cleaning up the area around the machine. Natasha had stepped back, but she was giving both of them a puzzled look.

“Barnes...” she began, glancing at both of them. “The hell are the two of you planning?”

Intrigued by the question, Bucky noticed that Alex had also stopped his movements. The young doctor gave both of them a curious look.

“< _Taking down Z_ _ola and as many hidden HYDRA bastards_ _, Natalia._ _It’s what Steve would do in our shoes_ _to try to make up for the selfish s_ _hit_ _that I caused in Bucharest and the Arctic._ >” Bucky stated in Russian.

“< _While_ _making t_ _he fucker_ _regret creating us, the Winter Soldier._ >” his counterpart followed up.

~*~*~*~


	25. Stasis – Part 6 – 1970

**Chapter 20: Stasis – Part 6 – 1970**

“It looks like Stark’s been extremely busy with his research into getting our 0-8-4 Captain America back to his reality.”

Peggy silently nodded as she and her husband strode through the halls of Stark’s upstate New York facility. It was not just the constant traveling between Headquarters and here that tired her. It was the need to keep this secret and safe.

Each time she returned to Headquarters, she worried that word may have leaked out from Howard’s facility about Steve and the others. It was vice versa when she was at Howard’s facility – worried that HYDRA was moving in the shadows.

She had hid it well, but apparently, James had picked up on her fatigue and worries. He hadn’t talked much about 1949 or just how different his reality was from hers, but he didn’t have to.

Just the fact that he had pulled her aside and quietly asked her to bring her husband into the fold, was enough for her to discern that he had become an extremely capable agent. She didn’t know why that strangely reassured her more than Steve and Bucky being alive.

Perhaps it was the fact that Steve and Bucky were still recovering from the war – which had abruptly ended for both of them. She had had twenty-plus years to adjust to what she knew now. James was the closest to her, in the mentality of a Cold War operative and agent.

Yet, the reassurance wasn’t all that solid within her. As she and her husband traveled down the corridor where the three-way fight that Steve and James had been engaged in, against the Winter Soldier – and then against a most terrifying creature, her husband paused.

“The hell happened here?” her husband asked.

The debris had been cleaned up, but full repairs to the walls, floor, lights, and windows had not been done yet. Howard was directing all of his resources into whatever James had asked him to do. Peggy didn’t know what it was – and James was incredibly tight-lipped on it.

She could have used her authority as Director to make James tell him what he and his counterpart were planning, but she didn’t. She had seen signs of a younger version of herself – taking the lead and withholding information from certain agents unless it was absolutely necessary to know. It was only to protect the agents; should the worst happen.

James was doing the same. She couldn’t help but wonder just how closely her counterpart in his reality worked with him. And it was through a part of that surprising trust in his judgment, that gave her reason to be more reassured of his actions.

His confidence now was different from when she had first met and talked to him in her office. When he had suggested changing the course of war with two relatively simple actions. Capture the Winter Soldier and Winter Guard team, and bring Steve back from the dead.

Two simple, but life-changing actions.

The arrogance that he had carried upon him since then was gone. It was further wiped clean when he had nearly died.

Peggy still remembered the absolute shock of seeing the ugly, horse-like appearance of the alien – suddenly and without warning. Remembered seeing the glaive pierce into and through James without a sound. Remembered seeing and hearing Steve’s strangled shout of James’ name – calling out to Bucky no less. Remembered seeing James’ counterpart respond in an explosive way.

And then, the woman – Natasha Romanov, resident of the Soul Stone – had appeared to help and save James. Peggy got the bare basics of Romanov’s purpose – a former SHIELD agent who had died in the Infinity War.

All Peggy really knew about how Bucky – her reality’s Bucky – snapping out of empty memories and into a shadow of his former self, was through Agent Romanov. The ally and friend that James carried with him had not explained much.

But, it was clear from the notebook that Bucky carried with him constantly after the fight against Corvus Glaive, that his memories were returning. Steve spending most of his time talking and sketching pictures for Bucky when not engaged in trying to catch up with the world, helped as well.

It helped – the distance and constant travel. It helped distract Peggy from the fact that she had to will herself to make peace with the life she could no longer have with Steve.

She loved her husband; even if she still found that a part of her had never let Steve go.

Peggy suspected that her constant back-and-forth was helping Steve come to terms as well. Her wedding ring was the first thing that he had noticed – having grasped her hands in relief when he had woken up.

“Complications,” was all she said, in response to her husband’s question. “Everyone is fine.”

“All right,” he said, nodding.

They continued on. Peggy stopped at a door with a keypad, and typed in the appropriate digits. Then she slid her keycard into the slot, before pressing her thumb in the scanner. It beeped, and the door slid open.

Her husband followed, stopping short of fully entering into the containment area when he saw just who were kept here. “Pegs?” her husband asked. “Is that—”

After Bucky had broken containment and attacked James, Howard had reinforced the cells with acoustic and visual blocking materials between each cell. It was to prevent anything similar from happening; and from vocal and visual communications from happening.

Peggy hated that she had to do that – to her own brother no less.

Yet, she suspected that James knew how Bucky had broken out – smashed cell door not withstanding – but had not said anything. Reviewed footage, including analysis on Michael, only showed possible twitches. Conclusive evidence that Michael had said something, but what – she and Howard’s algorithms could not discern.

“We captured them in Bucharest,” Peggy stated. “All five members of an elite shadow Soviet strike team.”

“But—” her husband began.

All five of the Winter Guard’s eyes were on the two of them. She knew they could read her and her husband’s lips. She was being careful with her words, but not enough to speak riddles to her husband.

“Michael was captured in the last days of the war,” Peggy stated. “Brainwashed and turned.”

“Oh God,” her husband said, looking back and forth between Michael – who still showed no signs of recognition – and her. “Peggy… I… Is there—”

“I don’t know,” she answered, taking one last look at her elder brother and the other four who held varying degrees of blankness to hostility in their eyes.

Leaving, she waited for a moment for her husband to join her. It was only after the door closed and was locked again that she said, “Alex is trying everything he knows, to see if it is possible to undo what the Soviets did to them.”

“God, Peggy,” her husband said, before fiercely embracing her. “I’m so sorry,” she heard him whisper.

Peggy had long dried her tears – shedding most of them in the first few days since getting her brother, her former love, and her friend – three men whom she knew so well before and during the war – back from the dead. The tears pricked at the corner of her eyes, but did not fall.

The minutes ticked by, and when her husband finally let her go, she stepped back, nodding in reassurance. “The five and General Krylenko were not the only ones we rescued from Bucharest,” she said.

“And Krylenko has been cooperating with the joint agencies task force,” her husband stated.

Peggy nodded. It had been a great relief to hand over Krylenko to the joint task force – allowing the burden of keeping the defecting Soviet commander safe to be placed on a wider net of people.

Silently, she led him down through another set of two corridors, before stopping before another door. A different set of keypad digits, keycard, but same thumbprint scan, opened the door.

Peggy stepped in. Her husband followed. Howard, Alex, James, Agent Romanov, and two others at the central table covered in maps, reports, and diagrams, looked up.

Even before the door slid closed, Peggy heard her husband stutter in complete shock. “W-wha—”

“Agent Sousa,” James simply greeted. “Thank you for joining us. Apologies for the lack of information and advance notice, but I asked Director Carter not to brief you for security purposes.”

“Or brief any of us,” Howard’s mutter broke the tension within the room.

“Our call,” Peggy stated, stepping forward as she glanced over and gave her husband an apologetic look.

Gesturing to those gathered, she introduced her husband to them, saying, “Daniel, this is Agent James Barnes, from the 1949 version of the SSR. On his right is Agent Natasha Romanov, former SHIELD agent from 2023. They traveled here together – the 0-8-4s. Next to her is also James Barnes, but of our reality. He was formerly the Soviet operative known as the Winter Soldier – and was captured in Bucharest at the same time as those of the Winter Guard. _We can trust him_. Agent Barnes found Steve in the Arctic, and brought him home, using the our reality’s Tesseract that had been temporarily borrowed by him and his compatriots.”

She paused for just a second before saying, “Everyone, this is Agent Daniel Sousa, and my husband.”

The awkward silence that fell among them lasted all but a second. It was Steve who broke it, by stepping forward and warmly greeted Daniel with a “Welcome” and an outstretched hand to shake.

Peggy managed to keep the relief she felt from showing. Apart from the still gob-smacked expression on her husband’s face, there was nothing in either of Steve or Daniel’s eyes to suggest any ill will.

Of course, Bucky’s eyes were unreadable. She had seen the quick look of surprise that melted into absolute concern in Daniel’s eyes when she mentioned the Soviet code name. Peggy knew that she would have to explain some things, but it was also why she had emphasized the fact that they could trust Bucky.

Introductions done, Peggy got right down to business. She withdrew the tiny device from a pocket. Howard had given her before she had left for Headquarters, and place it on the table.

“The scanner never beeped once on the trip up. But I’ll be going through both my office and Hank’s office again, once I return. Caught three new bugs in my office, and at least a dozen in Hank’s, though I suspect one or two of them might be whatever devices he’s been developing for his ants.”

“Excellent,” Howard answered, snatching up the device. “Oh, and too bad for old Doc Pym.”

Peggy couldn’t quite keep her exasperation at just how petty Howard sounded about Dr. Hank Pym, from showing. Even Alex was not-quite rolling his eyes at Howard’s comment. She caught her husband’s slightly puzzled look over at her.

“It’s a shrunk down scanner for listening devices. Experimental, but it works,” she briefly explained.

“Which means HYDRA doesn’t consider you a threat. So they’ll believe your story more than Stark or Director Carter,” James stated.

“HYDRA?” Daniel questioned. “And what story?”

“They were never quite defeated during the war,” Peggy explained. “We know that Dr. Arnim Zola is either their leader, or a part of their leadership. Their reach spans the world, including the Soviet Union. Bucharest was one of the many missions they knew about. It will be difficult to excise them out of SHIELD, but Agent Barnes has devised a plan to jump start that.”

“Long story short, Sousa,” James took over, “If you’re willing to, your role in this is to get the ball rolling. The Agent Sousa that I know in 1949 had a lot of contacts in the tri-state region. I’m hoping that you’ve maintained those contacts, because we’re going to need your help in leaking information that we’ve captured six Soviet Assets, and found Captain America.”

Far be it that her husband was going to protest or question why such information should get out – especially when just finding out that HYDRA existed. Peggy saw him narrow his eyes slightly before glancing over at her.

Peggy had not been briefed about James’ plan, but she suspected that it would come down to this. She had given it her blessing, wanting to see just how conniving this 1949 James Barnes was. After Bucharest, after he had almost died, she wanted to see what he would do without the arrogance – without the aid of forewarning or knowledge.

Because she had a feeling that even if the downfall of the Soviet Union was at hand, excising HYDRA was going to be difficult for her and those loyal to SHIELD. Lives would be lost – there was no doubt in Peggy’s mind about that. But to minimize it as much as she could, she needed someone who was completely unpredictable to HYDRA, to strike first.

That someone happened to be James.

“I’m willing, but breadcrumbs?” was all Daniel asked, returning his attention onto James.

“Similar to the ones you followed in the Ivchenko and Underwood case,” James answered.

“Wow,” Daniel said, blinking in surprise. “That was a very long time ago, but yeah. Early Cold War. They probably won’t see it coming. Zola… never thought… well… I guess we should’ve seen it all with Operation Paperclip.”

“Wernher von Braun was brought into the United States through that program,” Peggy stated. “Look at where we are in the Space Race.”

“True,” her husband conceded. “There’s always a bad apple in the batch though. He can’t be the only one.”

“He’s not, but he is the largest threat,” James said, nodding. “We’ll need you to monitor him and others that Zola might come in contact with. Their actions and reactions. Howard has been setting up and securing phone lines.”

“I’ll give you a number to call and a phone to bring back, before you leave, Daniel,” Howard stated.

“But is it going to be enough to even get Zola to move to whatever the hell trap you’re laying out for him? I mean, I’ve read the propaganda on HYDRA during the war. Red Skull didn’t even move anywhere and sat still—”

“Only after the SSR lit a fire under his ass, and burned all of his fucking bases in Europe down,” Peggy heard Bucky mutter.

The conceding expression that briefly appeared on James’ face, followed by his nod was humorous enough to cause a few to laugh. It helped ease more of the tension that seemed to have sat in the room since Daniel’s arrival.

Even Steve’s muttered exasperation of “Bucky… there are ladies present…” served to dissipate the tension even further, as both Howard and Alex laughed.

“I don’t know what intel Peggy, Howard, or Alex has given you, Agent Barnes,” Daniel said after the laughter faded, “but Zola’s not moving around much these days. He seems to be completely preoccupied with the restart of the super-soldier serum project.”

“That’s because I told him to back the hell off from the 0-8-4 project a few days ago,” Alex stated, before glancing over at a James. “Sorry, James,” Alex said, grimacing slightly. “Guess it’s partially my fault that the bloody bastard has his arse parked in his laboratory.”

“Alex...” Peggy began, slightly annoyed that he was also throwing filthy language around without a care.

“What, Peggy?” Alex spoke up. “That bastard is the reason why our brother—”

“Doc,” James said, sharply.

Peggy couldn’t help but feel an unusual chill crawl down her spine. Just that one barked word, the tone and the coldness behind it almost made her jump. It didn’t escape her notice that everyone else, except for Romanov and James’s counterpart, had also flinched.

Of Bucky, all Peggy saw was his quick glance over towards James and narrowing of his eyes. Romanov was the only one who looked completely unconcerned; as if James speaking in that manner was an every day occurrence.

“Don’t underestimate Zola, Agent Sousa,” James said after a moment, tone more normal. “He won’t move for just news of the capture of six key Soviet assets. He’ll send people to free them. We’ll be waiting for them. But to trap and take him out, you’ll need to offer the incentive that all six assets’ programming are starting to become undone.”

“Programming?” Howard questioned at nearly the same time. “As in something similar to that Sinatra movie… what, Manchurian Candidate? Sleeper agents programmed to activate with trigger images or objects?”

“Exactly like it, except with words,” came the alarming confirmation from Romanov.

“Shit,” Howard exclaimed at the same time Alex did so as well.

Somehow, Peggy managed to keep her composure. She saw Steve reach out to place a comforting, almost protective hand on Bucky’s shoulder. She thought that perhaps what she and Alex initially learned about the six Soviet assets was only that they had been brainwashed.

To hear that it was just more than that – that her brother… even Bucky could very well be deployed into crowds to carry out their missions with just trigger words—

“Wait a minute—” Daniel began, uncertain.

“Those trigger words,” Steve began, silencing whatever else Daniel was going to say. “They _**can**_ be undone, can’t they?”

The question was directed at Romanov, but Peggy noticed that Steve’s eyes were on James. There was an unusual hardness and unrelenting look in Steve’s eyes – as if he were challenging James to further hurt his own counterpart. And if James did so, there would be consequences.

“No,” Romanov surprisingly spoke up.

“Agent Romanov doesn’t know how,” James interrupted before Romanov could say another word. “Neither do I. But there are ways to mitigate it. Acoustic muffling, for one. Just like what Stark did to the containment cells. Michael was the one who triggered my counterpart’s dry reset.”

“Dry reset,” Howard repeated, sounding pained. “You make it sound as if the two of you, even Michael and those four in the cells are machines—”

“Because it’s what HYDRA and the Soviets turned all of us into!” James growled.

“There are ways to mitigate it. Acoustic nullification, for one,” Romanov interrupted, repeating James’ earlier words.

She had also taken a deliberate step in front of James to force him to calm down. “The other viable option is to lure Zola here, capture, interrogate, and force him to deprogram every single asset he created.”

“God, I think I’m going to be sick,” Howard said, stepping away from the table to lean against another.

As ill as she herself felt, it was Daniel’s steady presence beside her that kept Peggy standing. Steve looked pale, but he hadn’t removed his hand from Bucky’s shoulder. James had turned to the side, and was staring at something far and away – lost in his thoughts. Alex had sunk down to sit in one of the chairs, looking miserable.

“We can use my cochlear implants, Howard,” she heard her brother softly state, breaking the silence. “Build it to block out all sound or if possible, whatever words are the triggers.”

“Cochlear implants?” Steve quietly questioned.

“Dhofar,” Alex answered just as quietly. “My unit was ambushed by insurgents. I’m completely deaf in my left ear, and 80% in my right, sir.”

“I’m sorry,” Steve said.

“It can work,” Howard spoke up from where he was, still looking pale, but nodding in agreement. “I still have the blueprints.”

“That’s all well and good,” Daniel began, doubtful. “But… is this the only way to get Zola to move?”

“If you want the charges for crimes against Humanity to stick, you’re going to need evidence of him committing the crime,” James surprisingly spoke up, turning towards them again. He seemed calmer, more composed.

He gestured to both himself and his counterpart, saying, “Both of us would love to see him buried six feet under, but not everyone will ever get what they wish for. Bringing him here, recording his crimes, and having justice served is the better alternative than sanctioned – or unsanctioned – action.”

“The order for executive action – even on US soil – is reserved at the discretion of the President,” Peggy spoke up, nodding once. “But I understand the sentiment, Agent Barnes. In the interest of all parties involved, I’ll give you full authority to carry out this mission as you see fit. I trust that after Zola is detained, you’ll inform me of what is the final request that you have?”

“Yes,” James answered. “It should be safe enough then for SHIELD to know. Natalia and I will leave after I receive it.”

“A weapon of sorts?” Howard asked, frowning slightly.

James shook his head. “Something that will help Steve, my timeline’s Steve, finally complete this timeline hopping mission once he gets better.”

“Then we’re in agreement,” Peggy stated.

* * *

_Days later…_

It wasn’t so much of a day or night time event, but only the matter of _when_ the information would eventually filter to Zola. After that, it was watchful waiting, to see when Zola would direct his people up to Howard’s facility.

There was also the matter of just how to get Zola up there. It was a guarantee that the scientist would send others to do his dirty work. With careful planning of words, Daniel and Peggy had returned to Headquarters, seemingly cheered by the fact that some break through being made to recover Michael and Bucky’s – this reality’s Bucky – memories.

It had the intended effect.

Daniel had called in on the secured line only minutes ago. Peggy remained at Headquarters, but several strike teams had been deployed under the pretenses of middle-of-the-night training exercises. One team was even parachuting in from Canada.

Zola was confirmed to be following a few minutes behind the teams.

Bucky had already contacted Howard; all non-essential personnel had already been quietly evacuated. With what information they had on HYDRA’s strike teams, Bucky surmised that they had about twenty minutes before the first of the teams would arrive.

The fight would be in waves – starting with the team dropping in from Canada. Then the teams dropping in by helicopter from Headquarters. Those traveling up by vehicle would be the last – and the strongest, if there were any further resistance to be encountered.

Zola would be the last to follow.

Bucky didn’t think that part was true. Faced with the possibility of ‘reactivating’ the Winter Soldier to unleash as much damage as possible, Bucky was counting on Zola’s greed to be the mad scientist’s downfall.

At present, Bucky heard the faint voice of Steve coming down from a parallel corridor, saying, “Bucky, wait.”

Bucky paused where he was, hearing the scrape of his counterpart’s footsteps in the same parallel corridor become audible. Both his counterpart and Steve had been woken up via phone calls into their rooms shortly after Bucky had informed Howard.

“I need to talk to you. I need to get this off my chest. Please,” he heard Steve faintly say.

As far apart as the parallel corridors were, it was his enhanced hearing that allowed him to pick up on what was being said by Steve. Bucky knew that he should not linger and listen to the private conversation, but he did not feel any compulsion to move away.

“You know we have less than twenty minutes,” he heard his counterpart faintly state. “Is this about the journal?”

Bucky tilted his head ever so slightly. Ever since he had skimmed through and read his counterpart’s journal, he wondered if his counterpart would ever show it to Steve. Their brief conversations in the shared memory spaces during transfusion had certainly not lent any hint; only uncertainty when it came to Steve.

He had not encouraged or discouraged his counterpart. This was a choice that he would not force upon his counterpart – who had his choices taken away, just like him, so long ago.

“Yes, and no,” Steve answered, sounding solemn. “That journal entry… the one where the three of us were sitting around that campfire and Peggy introduced us to her tradition?”

“What about it?” his counterpart asked.

Bucky thought he heard a slight strain within that tone. He glanced down at his own hands, curled around the item that he needed to give his counterpart.

He didn’t blame his counterpart for feeling uneasy – even apprehensive. Bucky himself would have been hard-pressed to confess that he had killed his father, even under these kind of circumstances.

He hadn’t even had to tell Steve – his reality’s Steve. He had seen it in Steve’s eyes – his best friend already knew, and did not condemn him for it.

“This is what I wrote on that paper before I burned it,” Steve said. “First piece of paper, first page.”

The silence seemed to stretch before the two. Bucky almost decided to finally walk away, before Steve’s quietly said, “You told me that your father was killed by the New Jersey mob bosses.”

“He was,” his counterpart confirmed.

“Then why?”

“I don't remember.”

“Bucky…”

Even as peripherally removed from their conversation, Bucky heard the plaintive tone. It scraped at him; and he knew it scraped at his counterpart as well.

“My father was going to kill both your mother and you, Steve,” his counterpart answered. “After he had completed his run that day. He even brought his entire stock of ammunition, guns, rifles... everything with him that morning. Mom naturally thought it was because he was going to be doing a dangerous run for the Feds that he carried all of it with him. He was going to make your deaths look like a mob hit.”

There was a distinct pause. Then, Bucky heard his counterpart continue, saying, “He told Becca, Sammie, and I not to go to school that day. It made the run he did for the Feds seem more important. Becca and Sammie didn’t obey him though, and I covered for both of them when they snuck off to school, after Mom had left with Aggie and went to the factory. You… well, you decided to play hooky that day, and visited. So, I had to improvise being sick.”

“I remember that day,” Steve softly stated. “You told me to sit far away because you thought you were contagious. You didn’t even let me try to take care of you.”

“Yeah, and I had to kick you out, because I needed to get word to the New Jersey mob about my father’s route,” Bucky’s counterpart stated. “I didn't want that day to end like that, but it was your life or my father's in my hands... and well, I had already made my choice. I put the message in one of their known dead drops, hoping that they would get it in time. It wasn't until past midnight that the police showed up at the door and told us what happened. So what I wrote there, Steve, it's true. I knew what I was doing and how I was going to accomplish it.”

“Why...” Steve began, sounding distraught and hesitant. “Why did your father want to kill us? What did either of us do to your family?”

“It wasn't anything you or your mother did, Steve,” his counterpart quietly answered. “It was me. The only way he knew how to correct a negative influence, was to beat it until it could not move anymore – to scare it from ever rising again. If it still lived, if it still rebelled, then he would kill it or whatever influenced it. It's how he lived and worked in the East End, back when he was a constable there... back when he and his fellows were hunting a copycat Jack the Ripper.”

Bucky couldn’t help but crinkle his eyes slightly. He suppose that his counterpart had not fully recovered his memories. At least not enough to realize that the ‘copycat Jack the Ripper’ case was not quite what it seemed.

“No matter how many times he beat me, I never gave in,” he heard his counterpart say. “My heart never changed. I kept saying it to his face, and it made me stronger, and him just angrier. That was, until he decided to nix the influence. You.”

Bucky closed his eyes; there is was, the confession of love.

“I don't know what I am, Steve,” his counterpart continued. “But I do know that there's been a black, dark, remorseless monster living inside of me since that day—”

“No!”

He jumped slightly at the forcefulness of Steve’s denial. The shout echoed through the corridors. But just as Bucky was about to turn the corner and go down to see what the hell was going on, he heard Steve’s footsteps scrape slightly on the floor.

“Didn’t you hear me?” Steve’s anguished voice carried down the parallel corridor. “Didn’t anything I said to you when you told me to read your journal get through to you? I told you, I don’t care what you’ve done. You are worth everything to me. Please stop doing this to yourself, Bucky! I know we can’t ever go back and change anything, Bucky. I’m sorry for everything that’s happened.”

Steve paused for a moment. The next words he spoke were quieter and calmer. “You are not a monster, Bucky. You never were. You defend the innocent, speak for those oppressed, those who need help, and those who can’t fight. You are a winter soldier who is ever vigilant in his defense of life and liberty. You are not a weapon. You were and still are my best friend, and the only one I had cared deeply about. I still do. That is who you are to me, now and forever.”

Silence answered Steve’s confession; silence that was followed by a most curious of sounds.

It lasted for a few long seconds, before Steve spoke up again, this time sounding slightly breathless. “Forward and together until the end of the line?” Bucky heard Steve whisper, tenderly.

“Forward and together until the end of the line,” his counterpart affirmed.

Bucky glanced down, feeling bitter and glad at the same time. He didn’t even need a visual confirmation of what had just happened. Just the tone of their voices, breathless and suffused with care and love was enough to tell him that the one thing he himself had _wanted_ for so long – had happened in this reality.

A kiss; lips on lips – a clear sign of emotional and physical want in their relationship. It would never happen in his reality. Steve, his reality’s Steve, was married to Peggy. Bucky would never take that away from either of them.

But here, there were no more boundaries between this reality’s Steve and Bucky.

Bucky collected himself, and stepped out of his parallel corridor, as soon as he heard the footsteps of Steve – and the nearly silent ones of his counterpart – approach. Both wore neutral expressions, though there was a lighter look in Steve’s eyes.

He studiously ignored it, and held out his left hand as he passed them in the corridor. “Good hunting, Winter Soldier,” he stated to his counterpart, dropping the two ear implants into his counterpart’s right hand.

“You as well, Winter Soldier,” his counterpart answered.

They were both dressed in the same outfit, right down to the near-hidden armaments they carried. His counterpart had had his hair cut to the same length that Bucky wore his hair at the moment. There had been no time to find the appropriate extensions, and Bucky did not want to risk wearing a wig for the operation.

He had revealed to them the extent of his own silver arm emblazoned with the blood-red star when he donned the half-sleeveless black uniform of the Winter Soldier. A quick, quiet explanation of needing to look similar for the 2012 mission had been enough to reassure them. It had even caused a look of relief and gratefulness to briefly appear on Steve’s expression.

At present, despite his Winter Soldier persona hovering on the edge of his consciousness, Bucky couldn’t help the tiny smile that quirked up his lips as he heard Steve question his counterpart in confusion, “I thought Agent Barnes was his reality’s Captain America?”

“Hell no, Steve. You see, but you don’t observe,” came his counterpart’s faint answer, as they strode out of hearing range.

It took two steady breaths after their voices faded for Bucky to slip back into his Winter Soldier persona, and it helped, to hear – to affirm the words this reality’s Steve spoke to this reality’s Bucky.

_You are a winter soldier who is ever vigilant in his defense of life and liberty._

It was silent as the Winter Soldier glanced down at the red stone glowing against the silver of his left hand. The device was on his right hand, hidden beneath layers of armor. The stone lashed at him, but there was no hungry feeling that he felt crawling in the back of his mind.

Wrapping the illusion of reality around, the Winter Soldier stepped into the containment area. The cells that the other five were kept in were sealed off with the stone. They would not see him walk in and settle within the cell – not until he willed it to.

The five had been conditioned for the past few days for the comings and goings of the Winter Soldier. They knew it to be routine to have their vision blocked off; deliberately. It was ‘punishment’ for what their leader – the operative code-named Wolf Spider, had done.

All the Winter Guard knew was that the people who held them captive were trying to save the Winter Soldier. What they did not know that it was a conditioning ploy; long deployed even before authorization of the mission was given.

It was an extensive ploy between the Winter Soldier and his counterpart. To ensure that should any of the Winter Guard escape; should Zola return and successfully reactive or free the Winter Guard, _**they would not know**_.

The hiss of the cell door closing was enough to tell the Winter Soldier that all was ready. As the grip of the stone slowly eased from his mind, the stone slipped back into wherever it was kept until he needed it again.

He remained sitting in the cell; silent, still, and calm. Even the distant sounds of explosions, the changing of the lights from the harsh off-white color to a darkened, red emergency one did nothing to change his stance.

Those of the Winter Guard shifted ever so slightly, but the Winter Soldier did not move. Did not show any concern, anticipation, or sign of alertness. Dull, lifeless eyes stared ahead, even if peripheral vision and analysis was difficult to maintain without strain.

A half hour into the formerly stealth assault of enemy forces into this facility, that was when the door to the containment area hissed open. The stone slipped back into his left hand, and he tucked it in between silver fingers. The illusion settled within the area just as the black-clad soldiers entered.

The Winter Soldier didn’t even look up, and continued looking at a corner of the cell – compliant, uninterested, the blank slate everyone expected him to be. He could hear the murmurs of the operatives lacing explosives on the door.

The explosion upon the cell door didn’t even cause him to flinch. He had survived worse, as flecks of shards scattered everywhere within his cell and outside. The door was dragged further open.

“Hold,” the familiar nasal voice pierced into the ringing that was still cutting across his ears.

“Sir, we don’t have time—” one of the operatives began.

“We have time until the others find the five,” Zola’s sharp, but still nasal-sounding voice cut in. “For now, some distraction is needed to ensure that Captain America – both of them – are sufficiently occupied.”

Zola crouched, and the Winter Soldier held himself still. Dulled eyes, staring at the face that had tormented, tortured, and ripped away his life. But he made sure none of the deep, cold anger that fueled him showed—

“желание,” the cold whisper from Zola echoed within the cell, accompanied by a cruel smile.

… _all he could do now was survive, because he longed to live…_

The Winter Soldier let the faint, phantom pain of skittering stabs within his mind show ever so slightly on his expression.

“ржaвый.”

… _there was a searching look in_ _his eyes…_

An ache bloom between the Winter Soldier’s eyes; that too was shown to draw Zola further in.

“семнадцать.”

… _t_ _here was a solemn look in h_ _is_ _eyes…_

Grimacing ever so slightly, the Winter Soldier huffed out a labored breath – a real reaction.

“рассвет.”

… _daybreak had arrived…_

His fingers tightened around the stone ever so slightly to maintain the illusion in the containment area, as Zola droned on.

“печь.”

_...carry a frozen body, child or adult…_

Ice blossomed across a part of the Winter Soldier’s mind, but did not wrap around his thoughts.

“девять.”

… _his eyes were doing that searching look again…_

Four more commands, four more memories that Zola and Ivchenko had tried to rip away from him, only to succeed with three.

“добросердечный.”

… _how many more times they had before either of their luck ran out…_

Until the Winter Soldier wrest them back from his captors, his torturers, his tormentors—

“возвращение на родину.”

… _they were his reason to come home, no matter what happened…_

Because despite the shadow of the agonizing pain that had been tempered and tamed, the Winter Soldier was unwilling to give in.

“один.”

… _he should have made his peace long ago…_

The Winter Soldier endured it—

“грузовой вагон,” Zola finally said, satisfaction within his tone.

“< _Soldier?_ >” an operative questioned in Russian as soon as Zola stepped back.

“< _Ready to comply._ >” he stated.

“He’s ready sir,” the operative stated, stepping back to allow Zola to come forward again.

“Not quite,” Zola tsked. “This reset is not a full wipe. It is tenuous at best—”

“Sir, we cannot waste any more time,” the operative interrupted.

“Yes, I suppose,” the scientist huffed, before standing up. “Two targets, Winter Soldier,” Zola stated, as an operative handed him two photographs.

They were shoved in front of the Winter Soldier’s eyes. Even in the dim lighting conditions, he could see the photographs clearly. The pictures were clearly taken from the war, possibly from SSR dossier files.

“They are somewhere in this facility. Kill both of them by any means necessary,” was all Zola stated.

That was all the orders needed. Orders that were in compliance to what he had read, seen, and knew about. The Winter Soldier said nothing and got up.

Zola strode out of the cell first, surrounded by two operatives. He followed.

It was the near-silent footfalls that told him that all operatives had cleared the containment area. The Winter Soldier let the illusion go, and the stone and its unusually quiet lack of hunger lashing at his mind, receded.

One of the operatives handed him a rifle. His fingers curled naturally around it as he brought it up to a ready position. At the first intersection between halls, Zola and two of the seven operatives peeled off. Five followed him.

The Winter Soldier struck.

Whirling around, he fired five times, all precise bullets into the necks of the operatives – where neither helmet nor kevlar vests protected them. Two more bullets found their way into the operatives guarding Zola.

He feathered the trigger of the rifle with a finger ever so slightly as he sighted down the scope and kept it trained directly on Zola. The surprised squawk of the scientist hadn’t even reached more than mere noise over the chaotic alarms blaring within the facility.

As much as the Winter Soldier wanted to kill yet another iteration of Zola, he continued to stay his finger on the trigger. And so did Bucky – though as he felt the persona bleed away, he couldn’t help but show a satisfied smile.

“That—that cannot—” Zola spluttered.

“Arnim Zola,” Steve’s authoritative voice boomed across the alarms, cutting through the noise.

Bucky saw him confidently walking towards the two of them. The shield was nested across his back. Flanking Steve was his counterpart, carrying a high-powered rifle. His counterpart’s eyes were unreadable, but Bucky could read both relief and anger in his body language.

“You are hereby under arrest for crimes against—” Steve continued.

“No!” Zola nearly screeched in anger, looking back and forth between the three of them.

“незапятнанный!” Zola cried.

… _t_ _he shield howled in derision at him…_

Bucky took two steps forward, finger hovering dangerously close the trigger. “Shut up—”

“сумеречный!” the mad scientist cried, desperate in disbelief that the stop commands were not working.

… _tangling their fingers together for a moment…_

“Shut the hell up—” Bucky hissed, pressing the tip of the barrel directly into Zola’s head.

“морозилка—”

… _he enjoyed surprising him at times, now that they were both the same height…_

The grunt that came from his counterpart broke through Bucky’s haze of red. That noise had also caught Zola’s attention, turning him ever so slightly.

Bucky saw his counterpart collapse, clutching his head. Steve barely caught him, as Bucky heard him cry, “Bucky!” at nearly the same time. He had to assume that the ear implants had been damaged—

“один—”

Bucky tipped the barrel of his rifle down and pulled the trigger before Zola could finish the command. The scientist howled in agony as he collapsed to the floor, right kneecap and leg blown out from underneath him.

Before he could silence Zola with the butt of his rifle, a silver-red-blue shield flew at him. He barely jumped away to dodge the strike – but it had not been intended for him.

The edge of the shield sliced and struck Zola with enough force to shear and sever the scientist’s head from his body. Blood sprayed everywhere, as the force of the strike was also strong enough to scatter both body and severed head. Unimpeded, the shield sailed on until it struck and embedded itself deep within a wall.

Stunned, Bucky looked over to see his counterpart still partially collapsed on the ground, huffing with labored breaths. His counterpart’s silver arm was still outstretched from the throw; eyes enveloped in pain. Steve was clutching him, but looked as aghast as Bucky himself felt.

Then Steve’s eyes widened as Bucky saw his attention slide directly onto him. “James! Behind you—”

Bucky was already turning to face the new threat, when a flash of red hair and black-clad bodysuit appeared in his vision. Natasha stood inches away from him, back towards him, and her arms outstretched – the barrier between him and—

The Wolf Spider – Michael.

“No—” Bucky began, thoughts facing as to how Michael – how the Wolf Spider – had escaped confinement.

It was too late. Natasha had closed the distance, and planted a hand directly on the Wolf Spider’s chest.

The screams of agony that Bucky had anticipated never came. Bucky saw the Wolf Spider stop – mid-lunge in his attack; as if frozen in time. An ashen grey appearance overtook the operative, before the Wolf Spider _crumbled_.

Bucky stared at the spot where the Wolf Spider had been. Dust and ashes remained, partially soaking up the blood from Zola’s decapitated body. Natasha remained where she was, hands still outstretched, before slowly lowering them.

“What…” Steve’s disbelieving exclamation could barely be heard over the continuing blare of alarms.

Natasha turned her head ever so slightly towards Steve – towards Bucky’s counterpart. Bucky saw remorse, along with conviction within her eyes. She had no regrets in carrying out the execution of the Wolf Spider – of mercilessly killing Peggy and Alex’s older brother.

“If you ever fully recover your memories, Winter Soldier, please know that my counterpart here and I are forever grateful for what you did during that training session to save us from the Wolf Spider,” Natasha simply stated, and faded away.

* * *

_E_ _ighteen hours_ _later…_

The dust from Zola and HYDRA’s secret attack hadn’t even fully settled, but Peggy knew that it was for the better that James leave now. To remain and continue to linger to help was to pull him further into the reignited war against HYDRA.

James was not for this world, even if his skills were sorely needed. Peggy knew that she and the others needed to fight this war on their own terms. Win by themselves, and make sure that HYDRA was thoroughly defeated in their reality.

Bucky’s counterpart was needed in his reality – to fight against shadowed forces. To finish that reality’s Steve’s mission; and to prevent a growing Cold War from becoming a hot one.

They both knew, even if those were the excuses that Peggy kept telling herself – to keep herself from being torn between despair and anger. Despair for the death of her brother – killed by Agent Romanov; anger because James had not even tried to stop Romanov.

She didn’t understand it; only that Steve had defended what happened – both the killing of Zola, and of Michael. He had repeated the words that Romanov had stated to Bucky.

Bucky had no memories of whatever incident Romanov had referenced; his ear implants had been damaged and Zola’s attempt to stop him had left him more reticent than he had been. James refused to call the agent out of wherever she ‘lived’ when not in corporeal form.

Alex had tried to remain as neutral as possible, but Peggy could see that he was torn at what happened. Her only saving grace was that he didn’t know his brother as well as she did. She wished it didn’t have to be like this – that Michael hadn’t found the strength to break out of confinement and attempt to attack James.

It was also why she wanted James to leave now – before further damage and chaos could be sown. She had authorized the mission; thought it of good intent and a way to see new tactics against HYDRA implemented.

Peggy knew that she now reaped what she had sown.

James had finally told her the final request that he needed. A vial of Pym Particles. There was no detailed explanation behind it, except that it was necessary to ensure that the other stones were returned to their own points in time.

She knew then, that Dr. Pym’s research was vital to time travel. Peggy did as James asked – quietly, discreetly. She had delivered it herself, driving herself up to Howard’s facility. Daniel stayed behind to monitor things at Headquarters.

The media were still in some confusion as to what had happened – only that someone had tried to attack Howard’s facility. HYDRA as well – though their ominous radio silence was soon going to give way to chatter.

Steve, Bucky, and James had made sure that not one soldier on the HYDRA strike teams had remained alive after Zola had been killed. Howard had jammed all communications going in and out as soon as the first boots from the strike team in Canada, had landed.

There was a certain methodical comfort that settled within Peggy as she watched James complete his final checks on the pack. It contained several packs of Steve’s blood, the pared down transfusion machine, and instructions on how to use it. Peggy hoped that there was enough blood to save James’ reality’s Steve.

When that was settled and ready, she saw him lift it easily up to his shoulders. His armor was activated a few seconds later. Dark blue, dark white and red stripes, and the rip within those stripes that remained behind from what Corvus Glaive’s weapon had done.

“Good luck, James,” Alex solemnly said.

James nodded once in acknowledgment, there was no smile on his face – only grimness.

“I’m never going to get used to that,” Peggy heard Steve murmur about the armor.

“I haven’t gotten used to it myself,” James surprisingly quipped, before another set of armor – fully encapsulating and off-white in color – enveloped him.

“Wow,” Howard breathed, taking a step forward. “What is—”

But Howard never got to finish his question, as James suddenly disappeared before their eyes. Relief, along with a strange bout of sadness flooded Peggy, as she heard Howard squawk while going forward to examine the area where the 1949 version of one James Buchanan Barnes used to stand.

The 0-8-4 crisis, the mission, the brief but terrifying adventure was over – complete.

Breathing in deeply, Peggy refocused her thoughts as she glanced over to see Steve place a comforting hand on the still quiet, reticent Bucky. Unlike what she had seen before, Bucky did not shrug the hand of his best friend off his shoulder.

Her reality and her timeline’s Michael – however briefly reunited they had been under trying circumstances. Her reality, her timeline’s Bucky. Her reality, her timeline’s Steve.

They were home; Peggy knew that she could ask for no more.

~*~*~*~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So ends the Stasis arc and the heartbreaking consequences wrought from it. We return to 1949; to conspiracy, to the possibility of the nuclear war, the mystery of the Wolf Spider, Black Widows stalking the SSR, and a way to save Steve.
> 
> Some of the dialogue in the chapter may be familiar to some readers. I borrowed it specifically from this [chapter in Captain America: A Million Shards Falling](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14661462/chapters/35519223). It was purposely repeated and edited ever so slightly to show connections between different realities with similar circumstances. How one tiny change or action can cause so many ripples in the future.


	26. The Machination – Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Theme: '[The Machination (Rogue Mix)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NIdttMPRDI8)' by Ninja Tracks.

**Chapter 21: The Machination – Part 1**

_January 9_ _th_ _, 1949…_

Thirty seconds passed before Peggy saw Bucky appear again – uniform and all. But he was not alone, as the off-white time jump armor bled back, and was quickly followed by the dark blue armor. He was carrying a rather large, bulky backpack—

“I have a possible cure,” Bucky stated.

It was as if he had seemingly having forgotten that he had held Howard, Michael, and peripherally, David, at gunpoint. That weapon was holstered at his side, as he rushed off the platform and came clambering up the stairs towards her and Daniel.

In a sense, Peggy understood that he _had_ forgotten what had happened a half-minute ago – how he had left 1949 for 1970. Bucky could have spent days, weeks, possibly months in 1970. Daniel spluttered, as Bucky brushed past them, and Peggy immediately followed.

“Bucky!” she said, hearing the others following behind her.

Bucky entered Steve’s room, throwing the lights on. Against the harsh light, Steve looked too pale; almost blending in with the sheets that covered him. It was only the blood spots bleeding through all the gauze and bandages that covered Steve that provided the greatest contrast in the room.

Peggy saw Bucky sling the backpack off his back, placing it on the nightstand that Peggy had been intermittently using as a desk whenever she watched over Steve. She didn’t know what the machine that Bucky pulled out was, but when she saw him extract several packs of blood from a compartment within the machine, she realized what it was.

“Transfusion…” she began.

“Take these and store them in Stark’s refrigerator, Pegs,” Bucky said, handing her the tray full of blood packs.

“Stark, your 1970 self wrote these instructions for a pared down transfusion machine,” Bucky continued to say, as Peggy took the tray and took a few steps back. “Think you can help me put it together?”

“Uh, yeah, sure,” Howard said, snapping to.

Relief flooded Peggy as Bucky continued to bark instructions at the others to help set up the machine that would save Steve’s life. Clutching the tray of blood packs closer to her, Peggy left.

It was a relatively short walk to the kitchenette. There were two refrigerators – one for Howard’s experiments with the serum, the other that held food and drinks. Peggy placed the packs in Howard’s refrigerator, carefully setting some of the capped tubes and glasses aside.

When she returned to Steve’s room, she watched Bucky and the others work from the doorway. Both Bucky and Michael carefully moved Steve to a slightly more upright position, while Howard and David were completing the set up on the machine. Daniel was preparing the first blood pack, having the most experience out of all of them, in preparing IVs and inserting them.

Seeing that even moving Steve ever so slightly was already causing the bound wounds upon him to begin bleeding again, Peggy went over to prepare and lay out the bandages. She heard Michael approach and moved over to let him take a few of the materials.

“Don’t punish him too severely, Peggy,” her brother murmured, as he gathered the materials. “He wasn’t going to shoot any of us. He did what he did because he—”

“I won’t,” she interrupted, glancing up from her work.

Her brother’s eyes were strangely unreadable. She was long used to being able to read the naked pain, betrayal, and hurt that was evident since he and Bucky had ended their relationship. Now, all she could see was just… nothing.

But she heard his words; the meaning behind them that he couldn’t let go. Despite what Bucky had done – cheating on Michael while carrying out Operation Midnight – a part of Michael still loved him. She could hear that in his words, even if his eyes betrayed nothing. Even if it was clear to her now that Bucky refused to rekindle that relationship.

“I won’t,” she repeated, and looked over towards where Steve laid.

Bucky took a step back, as Daniel approached and pressed the needle of the life-saving blood into Steve’s arm. She saw worry being clearly displayed on his face. She knew that what her husband and Bucky had were the complex bonds of love that spanned in all directions – from brotherly to romantic.

Peggy thought it was undefinable, and knew that it had driven Bucky to do what he had done – even if it meant holding friends at gunpoint. But even then, it was behavior that was unacceptable for an agent of his calibre, experience, or seniority to do such a thing.

Yet, she knew that they – Bucky – had thought that there was no other option. Only time would tell now, if the transfusion would work – would save Steve’s life.

* * *

 _S_ _everal_ _days later…_

It wasn’t the soft whir of machines surrounding him that woke him, but rather the scratching of a pencil on paper. He blinked, feeling as if he were scraping sandpaper of his eyes.

But that feeling didn’t last long as he looked around – he was in his room in the Brooklyn facility. Sitting to his left was Peggy, using a nightstand as a desk. To his left was what looked to be a pared-down transfusion machine; inert.

“Hi,” he croaked as he returned his attention on Peggy.

She gasped. The pencil slipped from her hands as she stood up and came over. “Steve!” she cried, embracing him before pulling back slightly to kiss him several times.

Steve could taste her salty tears as he returned her earnest kisses. The feverish dreams, the blackness that he had stared at after what he remembered from 2012, were dashed from his mind. Each kiss they shared became longer, deeper, and slower.

He had thought he would never see her again.

“Oh, Steve,” Peggy began as desperation and sudden passion gave way to a more sedate, calmer countenance – for both of them.

“I didn’t think I’d ever see you again, Peggy,” Steve couldn’t help but say as he lightly traced his fingers along his wife’s cheeks and jaw.

She silently nodded, as he slowly withdrew his hands. Just that small of a movement was tiring. “What happened?” he asked.

“Radiation poisoning,” she answered, kneeling by his bedside so that they could talk relatively face-to-face. She did briefly help him take a few sips of water from a glass situated near his bed.

“You don’t remember what you did in 2012?” Peggy asked, setting the glass of water to the side.

“Fighting another of Thanos’ generals after we returned the Mind Stone,” Steve said, frowning slightly. His memories of the fight were hazy. “I remember being ambushed, hit with a concrete block, and snatching Thor’s hammer away to fight…”

“Bucky said that you used the Tesseract to teleport behind the General, and electrify him with the hammer. Told Bucky to take the head shot to kill the General,” Peggy stated.

“Oh, God,” Steve whispered, as he realized what he may have done to himself – and to his friends within the Soul Stone. “Tony. Nat—”

“Your friends have recovered, Steve,” Peggy gently said, rubbing the back of his left hand reassuringly. “Bucky jumped to 1970 to bring the Tesseract back, and to find help. Came back with a transfusion machine, and several packets of your blood.”

Steve glanced over at the inert machine, before returning his attention onto Peggy. “How?” he asked.

“I think it’s better if you ask him yourself,” she answered, looking slightly concerned. “He won’t debrief us about what happened. Something about the world situation in 1970 being too close to what we currently have here. Possible missteps and all.”

Steve nodded as best as he could. His wife’s seemingly innocuous, but ominous words worried him. He had read enough SHIELD files in the future about that time period to understand that the world had been morally tilted towards complete mistrust.

What this nascent Cold War in 1949 had already slid into.

Peggy patting his hand again and slowly withdrawing her own, before standing up drew his attention back to her. “I’ll be right back Steve,” she said. “The others, especially Bucky and Michael will be happy—”

Steve’s breath hitched ever so slightly, as he remembered a little more of what had happened in 2012. Especially what they had found at SHIELD Headquarters with the HYDRA files released.

“Peggy,” he began, reaching out to grasp her hand before she could fully pull away. “I need to tell you something after all of this – after you let Bucky and the others know. In private.”

“All right,” she said, nodding once.

There was concern in her eyes. Just her gentle tone when mentioning Michael’s name told Steve that she didn’t know. That Bucky didn’t tell her about Michael potentially being the Wolf Spider.

Knowing that his vague statement would only serve to worry her – and in turn, invite questions that others would potentially ask, Steve elaborated ever so slightly. “It’s what we – I,” he amended, “found in 2012. And how it might affect this war – this Cold War we’re in the midst of.”

* * *

_Later that evening…_

“Peggy tells me that I have you to thank, for saving me.”

Startled by the unexpected voice, Bucky looked up from where he was sitting by the window that overlooked into the heart of the facility. The science-fiction novel he had been reading was all but forgotten – placed to the side.

Steve was standing at the door, freshly showered – hair still damp and sticking up which ever way – dressed in comfortable clothing. He was no longer wearing the blood-spotted medical gowns they had carefully changed him into once every couple of days.

Hale, healthier-looking, but still tired – especially with the dark circles under his eyes – Steve looked much better than he had been since returning from 2012. What lesions, wounds, and the like had dotted his face and hands were gone – healed with the blood transfusion.

“Steve,” Bucky whispered, getting up. “You shouldn’t—”

“Be up,” Steve finished, entering as he gestured for him to sit back down. Bucky did so. “Needed to stretch, and didn’t want to be confined to the bed any longer,” Steve continued to say.

“You mind?” Steve asked, gesturing to the abandoned book.

Bucky shook his head, as Steve picked up the book, but did not place it to the side to take a seat on the ground. He watched as Steve slowly sat down, careful in the way he moved and tucked his feet under him. It had been a long time since they sat knee-to-knee on the ground; relaxed.

“The Caves of Steel,” Steve murmured, taking a look at the book that Bucky had been reading.

“Not published until the 50’s,” Bucky answered, watching Steve put the book to the side. “Howard, 1970’s Howard, slipped a copy into the pack that contained the machine and your blood.”

“You like it so far?” Steve conversationally asked.

Bucky shrugged, “Yeah. Got all the elements that I like in a good yarn. Cops, robots, and a murder mystery to solve. Not really fond of the whole underground society thing on Earth, or the longevity of what they call Spacers. But it is a good allegory for current events.”

He saw his best friend silently nod before placing the book to the side. “Asimov wrote a whole series on the two main characters in that story. It was one of the first things both Clint and Natasha recommended to me to catch up on. Back then, I thought if you’d been alive, you’d love the entire series. Probably would have devoured it over and over until the covers were worn and torn.”

“A whole series?” Bucky questioned, raising his eyebrows slightly in surprise.

“Yeah,” Steve answered, grinning. “Asimov also connected it to my favorite series that he wrote. The Foundation series. They won’t get published until later, but it’s basically the rise and fall of the Roman Empire, set in space.”

At that, Bucky couldn’t help but laugh. “Only you, Steve, would consider history transformed into science-fiction and set in some far away place in space, to be interesting.”

Steve grinned as well. But that easy-going grin faded after a few moments as a more serious look appeared on his face. “Thank you, Bucky, for saving my life. I’m sorry for what I did in 2012—”

“Hey,” Bucky interrupted shaking his head as he raised his left arm and pushed back the sleeve of his shirt slightly to show the bangle. “Not me, you should be apologizing to, punk. Should be your friends. They can hear us, even if they’re not inclined to hop out of the Soul Stone, right now.”

“I kind of had that feeling that they could whenever I wore that thing,” Steve began, flushing ever so slightly pink.

Bucky pulled his arm slightly away when Steve reached forward to try to take the bangle back. “Hey,” he said again. “You’ve just recovered, Steve. You shouldn’t even be up. I ain’t handing this thing over to you until—”

“Take it off, please?” Steve asked. “I want this conversation to just be between us. Alone.”

Bucky blinked, tilting his head ever so slightly. There wasn’t an earnest look in Steve’s eyes, but those mesmerizing blue-green eyes of his held a look that Bucky couldn’t quite get a read upon.

While he wasn’t sure that any of their conversations were really private any more, especially when it concerned the proximity of the time device, he gave Steve the benefit of the doubt. Thus far, Steve’s friends had only provided advice for the mission and people they interacted with.

Natasha had been the only one thus far to give him advice outside of the mission – specifically with regards to his conflicted feelings for Steve. She had said not one word of condemnation about his preferences; her only admonishment having been to briefly withhold the Tesseract after Bucharest.

As for the others, Bucky barely knew or interacted with Banner, and Tony seemed content enough to ignore him – that letter and some of the sarcasm within it that contained the 2012 information not withstanding.

Removing the bangle, Bucky placed it to the side, on top of the book. “You want to know about 1970?”

“Yes,” Steve answered, nodding once. “But also why Peggy told me you had held Howard, Michael, and David at gunpoint before you left. Talk to me, Bucky. Please.”

“Because after what happened to you, I didn’t think any of them would let me go,” he quietly answered. “It sounds absurd now,” he bitterly stated. “But I wasn’t thinking straight then. I… Stark… Tony, was the one who told me where to find help. He looked like he was dying, Steve. Looking like he and the others were going to take you to the grave—I couldn’t let that happen.”

He glanced down at his lap. “I didn’t want that to happen. I—”

Steve’s strong, familiar-looking hands entered his vision, enveloping his own that were resting on his knees. He could feel Steve’s calloused palm rubbing along the back of his hand – familiarly soothing. It was with slight irony that he remembered doing the same to Steve when they had been growing up – reassuring Steve that everything was going to be all right.

“It’s all right,” Steve gently stated. “I understand. Thank you—”

“No, I fucked up, Steve,” Bucky said after a few moments of silence, as he looked up, shaking his head. “I fucked up in 1970. The Tesseract is back in SHIELD’s hands, but I brought you and myself… back from the dead. Into a different kind of war that even Peggy and her husband, really are ill equipped to deal with. I thought I could change things there, but I really should have just stopped when I found and rescued you in the Arctic. Should have just asked your 1970’s self for help, and be on my way.”

“Start at the beginning, Buck,” Steve said, tone still gentle and understanding.

Bucky withdrew his hands from underneath Steve’s own. Steve sat back, but let his hands rest on his knees, occasionally brushing his fingers against Bucky’s knees.

Bucky ignored the light touch. He scrubbed his face before taking a deep breath. He owed it to Steve to at least debrief the mission as best as possible.

Reaching up towards his bed, he withdrew the folder that contained the 2012 data. There was a gun lying on top of it. It was the one he tucked under his pillow night after night. Catching Steve’s rather mild look, he paused in placing the gun to the side.

“What?” he asked.

Steve’s expression relaxed to a more contemplative look. “Nothing… just, the gun underneath your pillow seems… definitely you.”

Deciding not to comment on that, Bucky placed the gun down and withdrew the 2012 device from its sealed folder. “Natalia gave me this before we left 2012. It contains all the information that we found in SHIELD’s databases about… well, about how the Soviets and HYDRA fucked up several of our lives. Including information on the Wolf Spider.”

“Have you made any progress on that? Discerning whether or not—” Steve began.

“I see you’ve talked to Philips,” Bucky interrupted.

“I did,” Steve answered, nodding once. “And I brought Peggy into the fold of the DC operations—”

“That why she stormed out today?” Bucky couldn’t help but ask.

“Yeah,” Steve said. “But not because she’s angry at me. She’s livid at DC. I asked Lorraine to keep an eye on her – to make sure she’s not going into DC to find those files herself.”

Bucky remained silent. As much of a deterrent Lorraine was able to be, he didn’t think anything could stop or deter Peggy once she focused her mind upon it.

“Peggy also knows about Michael,” Steve stated in a quieter, more melancholic tone. “About him potentially being the Wolf Spider we’ve been looking for. I couldn’t keep that from her, not after what we found.”

“Did Philips also tell you about the order I was given? Should the worst happen?” Bucky asked, holding his gaze steady upon Steve’s eyes.

“Yes,” came the confirmation. “I never told Peggy, but she’s come to that conclusion. Said something about similar orders being given during the war?”

Bucky took a deep breath before slowly letting it out. “Philips ordered me to vet Michael by any means necessary during the war,” he explained. “I… made the mistake of falling in love with him, and clouding my own objectivity. Enough that I cleared him, agreeing with the information that MI-5 had on him. That he was a high-risk agent who was possibly a double-agent, but still loyal to king and country.”

He fell silent for a few moments before saying, “Philips gave me a second chance – to make absolutely sure. I’m not going to squander it.”

There was no condemnation, admonishment, or any sort of plead to reconsider his choices from Steve. Nothing, no elaboration that Bucky may have to kill Steve’s brother-in-law followed. Not even what Peggy may have said about the orders.

They sat like that in silence for a few long minutes. Finally, Bucky looked down and pulled the 2012 material out. He handed Tony Stark’s letter over to Steve – he was not going to hide anything from Steve with regards to the Wolf Spider.

If he missed one tiny detail, a minutiae of information that could clear Michael – 1949 Michael – from being the Wolf Spider, then he wanted Steve to be there to pick it up. Bucky had his answers, especially from his 1970 counterpart, but he wanted Steve to see his logic and reasoning first.

“I read over the information that Stark’s 2012 brick contained on the Wolf Spider,” he said, activating the device and turning it towards Steve. “Then, I went to go see Dottie Underwood. She confirmed that Michael was the Wolf Spider during the war. She had to invoke several commands while in Prague before VE-Day to get him to comply. She brought him back to Soviet lines, and didn’t see him until later.”

“It wasn’t until after she defected, and he started to visit you and Peggy at your house. She thought him as a threat, having overheard her handler discussing possible authorization to recondition Michael. She doesn’t know if he was reconditioned or not – or even wiped of his previous commands.”

He fell silent for a few seconds as Steve worked his way through the data. “Where’s Underwood now?” Steve asked after he was done.

“Safe,” Bucky answered, tone tight. “She wants to help. More specifically, she wants to protect Peggy. I told her that I would bring up the possibility of asylum with Philips.”

“Apart from the fact that you told me that your mother cleared her, do you trust her?” Steve asked, frowning slightly.

“I trust her convictions to want to protect Peggy,” Bucky stated.

Steve did not need to know that Dottie Underwood’s loyalty remained only with Peggy, and the ideal she carried. Just like his own was to Steve and his best friend’s ideals.

“So then, so long as we don’t make an enemy of her, we can trust her,” Steve murmured, before flipping through the mission logs stored within the device.

“Bucharest,” Bucky supplied. “1970. One day after you and Stark initially jumped in to steal the Tesseract. That’s the only joint mission that saw the Winter Soldier and Winter Guard working ‘together’.”

“And where Peggy lost several senior agents, and almost her command,” Steve murmured, looking through the mission file. “Krylenko was assassinated as well.”

“I went to 1970 for purely selfish reasons, Steve,” Bucky admitted. “Coerced Peggy and the others with bringing you back from the Arctic in exchange for returning the Tesseract, and bringing Michael back to her as well. Wanted Zola there dead too, so I threw that in as incentive. Told them about HYDRA growing under their noses. Wouldn’t leave or tell them about needing Pym Particles until Zola was dead. I threw Peggy, her husband, and everyone else in that timeline into a war of my own doing—”

“And so did I, Bucky,” Steve interrupted, tone surprisingly hard. “You’re not the only one who gave into selfish temptation with the stones.”

Bucky watched as Steve shut the device down and folded his hands together, fiddling with his fingers for a few seconds. Finally, when it seemed Steve was ready to continue, he saw him look up and ask in a calmer tone, “Did you stay long enough to see how the Wolf Spider or the Winter Guard programming can be undone? Did Zola even live long enough to tell—”

“No,” Bucky said, shaking his head. “Michael didn’t recognize me at all, even when I ambushed him and the others in Bucharest. Even after your 1970’s self went to go see him. What they did to Michael and the other four… was different from what Zola and Ivchenko did to me.”

Steve was silent for a moment before saying softly, “I’m sorry you had to go through that again.”

Bucky didn’t answer him. Instead, he took up the time-jump bangle and slipped it onto his wrist again. As if anticipating what he was about to do, the Reality Stone slipped into his left hand.

A deep-seated hunger lashed against his mind. The grey clouds of memories enveloped both him and Steve, but he did not show the memory just yet.

“The Tesseract’s return into the hands of 1970 was more accidental than deliberate,” he began. “Michael knew the commands to reset my counterpart and invoked it. We were too late to stop the dry reset, so I had to fight my counterpart again to stop him. Your counterpart intervened, and I think… partially got through to him. Similar words and all that you spoke in 2014.”

“I was preparing to teleport with the Tesseract. My counterpart intercepted it and kicked it out of my hand. One of those creatures showed up. I got stabbed, lost some blood. Needed a transfusion. Not sure if it was just the strangeness of everything, but this is what I remember.”

The memory of the first time his counterpart had wrest control of the ‘memories’ that Natasha invoked with the Reality Stone was shown. He wasn’t embarrassed or ashamed to show Steve the memory; that it didn’t matter if Steve chose someone else to marry or love – he, Bucky – would always follow and remain steadfastly loyal.

When it came to the memory of the memory of what Michael had done after the Soviets had completed conditioning on the Winter Soldier, he saw Steve flinch. Either Steve knew or heard about the theory of the electric infernal device, or had seen it used – on another iteration of himself or someone else.

There had been only a handful of times that Bucky had seen Steve get truly angry. Not the white-hot rage that encompassed him whenever beating bullies or even stopping HYDRA. But true cold anger that seemed even colder, possibly darker than his own.

Bucky saw that anger bubble up to the surface the moment Michael, in the memory of a memory, straightened and wiped all remorse from his expression. Bucky closed his eyes for a brief moment – so he had not seen falsely of his counterpart’s memories.

He closed the memory. The stone withdrew from his hand, and Bucky slowly slid the bangle off and placed it to the side. Steve’s blue-green eyes looked like chipped crystals.

He waited a few seconds before saying, “Natalia killed Michael in 1970.”

“What?” Steve questioned, frowning in concern.

“Michael broke out of his cell and tried to attack me during the operation to capture Zola. I was a little distracted by the fact that my counterpart had just decapitated Zola, so I wasn’t fully aware of my six. Natalia appeared and killed him – dusted. Now, I know what Ghost Rider, or at least what those barriers of the Soul Stone can do.”

Bucky tightened his jaw for a moment in anger as he looked away. “Wolf Spider did something to her during training,” he said. “Something that necessitated my counterparts who had gone through that… phase of memories… to do something to save her. Whatever it is… was… I think it’s justified. But I also think that it’s a slippery slope when it comes to the Wolf Spider.”

He sighed and shook his head slightly. “We need to be absolutely sure, Steve.”

“I know,” Steve answered, the chipped look in his eyes slowly fading away.

Bucky glanced over and down when he felt Steve pick up his right hand and hold it within his own. “Are you all right?”

He couldn’t help but half-snort of laughter. It was both a partial deflection and gallows humor. One was from the weight of what he was going to have to do, and of learning that Peggy now knew that her brother was possibly turned. The other was because it was a little ridiculous that Steve should be asking that question, when his best friend had been the one dying from radiation poisoning.

“Could ask you the same, punk,” he stated. Before Steve could answer, Bucky withdrew his hand and brought both of them up to the sides his face, resting slightly forward with his elbows on his crossed legs.

“I suppose that the days I spent on bed rest in 1970 could be constituted as a vacation,” Bucky began, before righting himself again. “I don’t know what to do. If we pull David away from Michael, he’ll know something’s up. And with whatever the hell these sixteen remaining Widows are planning, I’d rather actually have Michael protecting David right now, than strip him of that protection.”

“Unless Michael is working in concert with the Widows,” Steve stated.

“The thought did cross my mind,” Bucky answered. He felt tired – not a physical sort, but akin to being spent. “I don’t want to levy accusations on him—”

“Without proof,” Steve finished up. Bucky looked up to see him nod in understanding. “Without witnessed proof – recorded or otherwise. But the longer he remains, the more potential…”

“I said those code-words to him, Steve,” Bucky said, briefly scrubbing his face again. “December 31st. I said it, and nothing changed. Short of seducing and sleeping with him again—”

“No,” Steve’s sudden, movement forward caught Bucky by surprise. Steve had cupped both of his hands around Bucky’s neck and face.

“No,” Steve repeated, inches away, forehead nearly touching his. “Please don’t do that to yourself, Buck. Not for this particular problem. Please.”

Bucky wanted to push Steve away, to say that his life was his own to do as he pleased – sleep with whomever he wanted to sleep with – but it wasn’t true. He didn’t ‘pick and choose’ his targets – he was assigned them. Had always been assigned them; and constantly took the easiest route – sex – to get what he needed.

There were always other ways, and Steve spoke the truth. But none of them were not as easy as simple seduction, of using and manipulating what he and Michael had, to complete the mission.

 _You are more Wolf Spider than Winter Soldier_.

It was ironic that Dottie Underwood’s words – first thrown as insult towards him – were now guidance that he used to govern his actions. If he fell to what the Wolf Spider had done and used upon him, Bucky knew that he was no better than what the Soviets were hoping to accomplish with their programs.

Silently, he nodded. The Winter Soldier was still his to shape, his to control, and his to ensure that it became just as powerfully potent as it was through history – but for good.

“Good,” Steve warmly said, holding his eyes within his own.

He felt Steve gently let him go, fingers lightly teasing against his neck and jaw as Steve sat back. The unreadable look in Steve’s eyes when his friend had requested him to remove the bangle for a more private conversation, was there again.

Bucky had to tell himself that just the fact that Steve told him that Peggy allowed this was enough. That Steve only affectionately touched him like this when in private was more than enough, even if it wasn’t the intimacy _he_ wanted, but could never say.

“Peggy,” Steve began, looking slightly uncertain, but seemed to conjure up his resolve after a few seconds. “She’s looking for absolute proof. The same as both of us. She… came up with a plan. And I think it’s the best we got.”

Bucky blinked in surprise as Steve fell silent. “Steve, no insult on your wife, and hell – even I know Peggy’s probably smarter than both of us combined, but—”

“We’re all compromised when it comes to objectively evaluating Michael, Bucky,” Steve stated, nodding slightly. “But I think this might be our best shot in potentially killing two birds with one stone. To see how the sixteen Widows react, and how Michael reacts. If there’s any correlation or evidence, then we have our proof.”

“Steve,” Bucky began, feeling some doubts creep upon him. “How does Peggy feel… about the orders Philips gave me?”

“I think it’s better if you ask her about it yourself,” Steve answered, glancing away for a brief moment before returning his gaze onto him. “It’s a part of the reason why she came up with this plan.”

“What’s the plan then?” he asked.

“We know that David doesn’t sleep much, which limits Michael’s times for delivering information to dead drops, or contacting handlers – if he has any in the city. We have Dottie Underwood intercept and kidnap David. She hands him off to you while she leads Michael away, and you take David to a safe house. Dottie meets you there, and keep him safe until we have our answers. We gauge the reactions, and you discreetly follow and observe Michael whenever he’s not in the facility.”

Bucky stared at his best friend, surprised at just how not-by-the book the plan was. “This is going to delay any improvements that Stark and David were planning on making to the device, Steve. It’ll raise the risk of the Soviets – if they know about the facility and project – of intercepting everything.”

“I know,” Steve agreed. “It’s a risk I’m willing to take. Once I return the Reality Stone, Mjolnir needs to go with it. Right now, that is the only thing that can defend against an overwhelming incursion breaking out in Brooklyn.”

Bucky knew that Steve had a slight tendency to be a little more dramatic than normal, but after what he had seen and experienced, he had to agree. Yet, there was something that bothered him—

“How am I going to discreetly follow Michael around, when I’m on the active roster, Steve?” he asked. “That would require taking me off the roster, and questions asked—”

“You’ll have to ask Philips for a transfer back to Europe,” Steve said, the unreadable look in his eyes returning.

“How?” Bucky asked, sensing that this plan was just a hair more complex than what Steve told him. “Why—”

The unexpectedly brief, soft press of warm lips upon his own startled him. It was so fleetingly quick that Bucky thought he was imagining it. But his eyes told him a different story.

He forgot how to breathe—

Steve silently and gently pulled away, but Bucky remained sitting there, stunned and rooted to the spot. He silently watched as his best friend avoided looking at him as he unfolded himself and carefully stood back up. Steve said nothing else, and quietly left.

Bucky remained there, eyes following Steve to the floor, and continued to stare at the door – even after it closed. Of everything that he ever wanted, ever wished for, this was not how he imagined being kissed by Steve, to be.

Bucky felt a gnawing ache of misery, where there should have been happiness blooming within his heart.

* * *

_Morning…_

“Peggy… I need to tell you something.”

Peggy glanced up from the reports she was reading and taking a few notes on. Bucky stood before her, unusually solemn-looking. He was not due for his shift rotation yet, and by rights, should have been either be resting, or helping Howard and the others within the facility.

Ever since the sixteen remaining Widows had begun to openly harass Howard and Jarvis, Peggy had ordered the patrols to be tightened up. She had sought and received permission from Headquarters to visibly arm SSR agents, and authorized two members of the 107th assigned to Brooklyn to help escort Howard to and from where he was staying. David had been granted the same courtesy.

She had also received permission from Headquarters to visibly deploy a sniper on the rooftop during the day shifts. That assignment had been given to both DumDum and Bucky. The two switched hours though, and Peggy did not question why.

With all things considered, she could only assume that Bucky had been performing some more clandestine activities during the night. Being read into Philips’ DC operations certainly lent a credence to that assumption. Her friend needed the missed sleep, and after what he had done to save Steve’s life, she was willing to give it to him.

She gestured for him to sit. She was working at the front desk today, and would be doing so for the foreseeable future. She still had the comm system linked up to hear what was going on, but with four of the six stones returned, her presence wasn’t quite as needed within the facility.

Howard continued to improve and work on the serum, but the urgency was no longer there. Some improvements could be made to the time device, but Peggy knew that Steve was waiting for the Wolf Spider to be flushed out, before completing the mission.

Since Steve had woken up yesterday, he seemed quieter, more introspective. She had let it be, until he told her what he had found in 2012 – that her own brother was the Wolf Spider. Had been during the war, potentially still was, and had been in Steve’s timeline.

“Privately, please?” Bucky question returned her to the present. She saw him gesture to the comm device.

Peggy looked at him, noting the circles under his eyes – he hadn’t slept at all. Though she didn’t know him as well as Steve did, she knew that there were two or three things that could possibly keep him up.

The first was something to do with the DC operation for Philips. Having a proverbial knife to the throat tended to rile up those being held hostage. The fact that DC had blackmail files on both herself and Bucky, _and_ was coercing Steve and forcing Philips’ hand with them, made her see red.

She would not be surprised if Bucky saw elegant little head shots through the scope within his own mind’s eyes.

The second and third were peripherally related – the Wolf Spider, and Steve. If what the two faced in the field during the war was not traumatic enough, 2012 certainly became the catalyst for change. With the closed expression on Bucky’s face, it told Peggy that the matter was about Steve.

And she already knew what it was going to be about.

Removing the comm device and turning it off, she placed it in a bundle of cloth before wrapping it up. For good measure, she shoved it within a box within the front desk.

“Steve kissed me.”

Peggy blinked. Once, twice—before she registered Bucky’s worried look on her, and that his eyes were looking down at her hand.

The pencil in her hand was creaking, gripped tightly. It had not yet broken in half, but it felt like it was about to. She eased her grip on it, and placed it down on the table.

Rubbing her fingers on her temples, she closed her eyes for a brief moment before opening them again. “I know,” she quietly stated. “Steve told me last night.”

She reached into a hidden pocket she had sewn into her skirt, and withdrew a folded note. His sharp eyes were on her, watching her every action. Passing it to him, he took it and unfolded it.

Bucky quickly read through it, and when finished, picked up the pack of cigarettes and lighter that Lorraine had left at the desk. He lit the cigarette but did not smoke it – and instead, place it within the notch on the ashtray.

Folding the note back up into the square it had been, Peggy watched him light both ends before letting it rest over the ashtray. He dropped it as soon as the flames begun to creep up past the half-way mark.

When Bucky returned his attention onto her, his eyes were completely unreadable.

“I caught and experienced a glimpse of the same kind of ruthlessness within you while loitering in 1970.”

His sudden words in the uncomfortable silence startled Peggy. They were stated neutrally enough that she couldn’t tell if he was truly angry at her. But she understood the sentiment behind the words.

What she had done was despicable, but he understood why it had to be done. Bucky’s unsaid words and expression were all that were needed for her to know that if she hadn’t exploited it first, then the Wolf Spider would have eventually done something similar – possibly worse.

Just Bucky’s words alone told her that her brother – the Wolf Spider – in 1970 had exploited the relationship between the 1970’s versions of Bucky and Steve.

“We both paid the price for what we were trying to reap in 1970, Peggy,” he continued to say. “Guess it’s no different here and now.”

The entrance to the facility proper opened, cutting into any further conversation that she was going to have with Bucky. Unsurprisingly, Steve stepped through but remained in the shadows. Peggy did not miss the slightly surprised look that briefly appeared on her husband’s face when he saw that Bucky was there.

“Where’s Lorraine?” Steve asked.

“Her aunt on her father’s side was admitted to the hospital early this morning in DC. Doctors aren’t sure if she’ll make it to the end of next week,” Peggy stated.

“Please send my condolences along to her, whenever she calls or returns, please,” Steve stated.

The words were enough for Peggy to understand that her husband understood the message she conveyed. Lorraine had been sent to DC to begin intercept operations on the blackmailing information.

“I will,” she answered.

“I’ll let Philips know when I call him,” Bucky stated in a calm but anger-laced tone, as he suddenly shoving his chair back and stood up.

She saw him snatch the ashtray, having stubbed out the rest of the cigarette over the ashes of the note. He unceremoniously dropped the time-jump bangle into the tray.

Without another word to them, Bucky then brushed past her. Peggy turned just in time to see the shadow of him shoving the tray into Steve’s chest – dropping it into Steve’s hands.

“Pour that into showers yourself, Rogers,” Bucky brusquely stated, shoving his right shoulder into Steve to roughly move him to the side and away from the entrance.

Peggy immediately buzzed Bucky in. As soon as the door closed, she shook her head at Steve. There was a worried look on her husband’s face, but what was done was done.

Bucky had accepted the modified parameters of the operation – to give all of them one last chance to try to clear Michael. To have Steve apologize right now would do nothing for Bucky’s mental state. She needed Bucky’s anger – real or not – along with Steve’s remorse, and her own torn feelings to be as genuine as possible.

It was the only way to allow for a chance to not condemn Michael to death.

* * *

_Later in the day…_

Bucky stripped out of the thickly padded outer jacket of his uniform. While not quite exactly similar to what he wore during the war, it was made by the SSR to be the same; allowing for the distributed absorption of any sniper rifle shots he may take during his shift.

Thus far, it hadn’t come down to him shooting anyone yet.

Picking up his sniper rifle, he methodically and carefully took it apart until the pieces were large enough to be stashed either in pockets, or rolled up within his padded uniform. Stashing everything into the suitcase, he closed it and locked it.

Shoving it back into his locker, Bucky then stripped out of the rest of his clothing. Taking his towel sitting on the bench, he strode over to the other room with the showers, turned on the spray, and stepped underneath it.

Though he wanted to stand under the hot spray longer to warm up his cold bones, he didn’t. After five minutes of scrubbing and cleaning himself, he turned it off and toweled himself dry. He wrapped the towel around his waist. Returning to the lockers, he wasn’t exactly surprised to see Michael standing at the entrance.

It meant that the ‘taxi to the airport’ was already here. And that Michael, leaving to escort David back to the hotel, had seen it. The ‘driver’ had probably asked Peggy for him by name.

The swiftness of just how Philips was able to enable the initial logistics of the operation to clear or capture the Wolf Spider was stunning. It told Bucky that his commander still had a heavy amount of influence with different intelligence organizations in the United States.

“What’s going on?” Michael asked. “Why is there a taxi here to take you to the airport?”

“I’m leaving,” Bucky said, opening his locker and taking out the suitcase, along with the fresh set of clothing he had taken out of the suitcase earlier. He unlocked his suitcase and shoved the old clothes he had been wearing into it, before closing and locking it again.

“Leaving?” Michael questioned. “What, as in transferring? Back to Europe? Right now?”

“Yes,” he answered, turning so that his back was facing his former lover.

He knew that Michael could see the scar that marked where Corvus Glaive had stabbed straight through him. Thankfully, Michael seemed more preoccupied with the fact that he was leaving, than to ask him about the scar.

“Why?”

Bucky finished dressing himself and making sure his gun and shoulder holster were secured, before he turned around. Putting on his coat and picking up the suitcase, he walked towards Michael, stopping next to him.

“Maybe you should ask Steve that, instead of me,” he said, putting enough venom into his tone.

It was not just the words, but the anger behind those words that was enough to startle Michael. Bucky walked past him without saying anything else. He made it past the main entrance and through the tiny studio front, not even bothering to catch Peggy’s eyes, before Michael burst out.

“What the hell—” Michael’s exclamation of disbelief startled both Peggy and David, who had been waiting for his bodyguard in the studio.

Bucky ignored all of the clamor, and strode to the taxi. The ‘driver’ was already ready to go, and Bucky got into the car. He gave the ‘driver’ an address, and not a second later, the taxi pulled away.

It took less than ten minutes to navigate the streets of Brooklyn to get to his primary destination. If there were eyes upon the building, and if Michael did have clandestine Soviet contacts far and wide, then they knew that this was where his mother and sisters lived. Logic would dictate that he’d visit his mother and sisters before leaving for the airport – for Europe.

Telling the ‘driver’ to wait, Bucky brought his suitcase inside, and quickly went up to the floor where his family’s apartment was. Knocking on the door to his mother’s apartment, he heard the patter of feet and of Becca stating that she would answer it.

Her screeching of his name when she opened the door abruptly died, as she looked at the suitcase in his hand. “You’re leaving,” she said, forlornly.

“Soon,” he answered, before being let in.

Agnes and Becca’s husband were in the kitchen, filling up a small tub with flour. The teenaged girl Becca and her husband ‘adopted’ was sitting at the table, working on what looked like homework. She had stopped mid-bite in eating her cookie, as soon as he stepped in.

Bucky could see that the girl was desperately trying to suppress her instincts to attack and try to kill him. He ignored her as she shoved the rest of her cookie into her mouth, and mechanically chewed while glaring at him.

He placed his suitcase on the other side of the table. The others, having heard Becca’s screech, were making their way out.

His mother, still looking as elegant as ever, but with an oddly calm countenance about her, nodded at him in greeting. Slightly stranger was the brief look of sadness that passed over her eyes as she took all of him in with a single glance.

But it was not quite his family that Bucky sought out. “Congratulations, Ms. Underwood,” he said, unlocking and opening his suitcase. He took out the scope of his sniper rifle while saying, “My commander approved your asylum.”

“I hear a caveat in that,” Underwood stated, slightly unimpressed.

“You’re working for the SSR now, and your mission brief is in the packet that was delivered to…”

He closed the suitcase and locked it. He didn’t trust Becca’s adopted daughter fully control her instincts to not dive for the weapons carefully hidden in and around his suitcase.

Going over to the living room, he drew back the curtain ever so slightly and peered through the scope. The marker that Philips had told him to look for was where he expected it to be.

“Romano’s on Flatbush,” he finished up, withdrawing the scope.

“How many minutes did you ask the taxi to stay?” his mother suddenly asked.

“Half hour,” he answered. His mother didn’t need to know that the ‘driver’ was one of Philips’ embedded agents within the city itself.

“I’ll tell him to make it forty-five minutes, with an incentive for a fresh batch of cannoli,” his mother stated, before going to the coat rack and drew her coat on.

“A dozen without the sprinkles. George hates them,” he stated.

It was similar to the passphrase that both he and his mother had used while behind Soviet lines during Operation Midnight. He had specifically stated to Philips during the phone call to instruct the hand-off agent to only accept that phrase.

She nodded and left without another word to him, Underwood, or the rest of the family. Bucky saw the confusion in his sisters’ eyes, and even both Samantha’s betrothed and Becca’s husband were looking ever so slightly puzzled.

Aware that Underwood’s sharp, calculating eyes were on him, he ignored both that and the rest of his family’s puzzled look. He didn’t want to draw his family further into SSR business – and this was the extent he agreed upon with Philips.

“You’re not leaving,” Underwood broke the silence, as Bucky unlocked his suitcase again and returned the scope back to where it had been. “You’re being watched… possibly followed.”

He ignored the frightened gasps from his sisters, and didn’t answer her as he closed and locked the suitcase again. Shucking out of his coat, he hung that up, before returning to the table, and took his suitcase off of the table.

“Can I have a cookie?” he broke the silence, seeking out Becca.

Of all of his family, she was the one closest to him. Yet, all of them besides his mother, seemed to understand that he was not going to answer any of Dottie’s questions at the moment – no matter how rude he was behaving.

“Can you?” Becca’s teasing of his bad grammar seemingly eased tensions within the apartment.

Bucky settled for rolling his eyes slightly at her before saying, “ _May_ I have a cookie?”

“Yes!” she answered, brightly. “And please, keep them away from Natalie. She’s eaten five—”

“Seven,” Agnes interrupted, throwing Becca a not quite apologetic grin.

“Too many,” Becca stated, shaking her head.

More at ease, the rest of the family drifted off to resume doing what they had been doing. The closeness that they had with each other was still there – but it was clear to them that he, Bucky, was currently on-duty for work. Not to mentioned ‘being followed’ while on duty. They could laugh, joke, and pester him, but it was the same how the Barnes family had treated their father whenever he came home for a quick meal or break while ‘on duty’.

They had given their father space, room to relax with quiet. Now, his sisters were doing the same for him. Bucky was both heartened and saddened by the turn of events.

Dottie was the only one who remained where she was, carefully observing him. He ignored her.

Bucky sat down at the other end of the table, and reached to pulled the plate of cookies away from Natalie. The girl looked completely torn between still suppressing her instincts, and wanting another cookie.

He took a piece up and broke it in half. Extending his good hand that held half of the piece towards her, he watched as a myriad of expressions flitted across the girl’s face.

“She’s not going to take it,” Underwood’s disdain broke the silence. “Last time I shared a piece of bread with a fellow trainee, I was ordered to kill her. Natalie’s probably witnessed or experienced the same—”

The girl’s sudden snatch of the half of the cookie out from Bucky’s hand silenced Underwood. Bucky watched as she jammed the cookie into her mouth and chewed it rather angrily. Yet, those baleful eyes of hers was not on him anymore – but on Underwood.

“A little kindness goes a long way, Underwood,” Bucky stated, flicking his eyes briefly up at her, before returning his attention onto the girl.

“A little kindness, and sometimes a 2x4 as well,” he heard Becca’s husband mutter from where he was. It caused both Agnes and Becca, who had returned to the kitchen, to snort in laughter. Underwood was not amused.

“True—” Bucky agreed.

“Bucky...” Becca began, noticing that Natalie had turned quickly from her adopted mother to cover the fact that she was eating yet another cookie. “You didn’t…”

Bucky didn’t answer, and ate the other half, while shrugging. Before Becca could admonish him any further, he scooted his chair closer to the teenager.

Placated by a cookie of all things, the girl didn’t tense up as Bucky took a look at the math problems she was solving for her schoolwork. It looked as if she was struggling slightly with the concepts presented; ironically, the same ones that Steve had had trouble with when learning the same thing.

Wordlessly, he tugged at the edge of the paper, and she silently yielded it to him. Picking up another pencil, he wrote out an alternate technique that he had found in a book at school, and had taught it Steve. Their teacher had not even presented the technique, but found that it solved several problems just the same.

Returning the paper to her, the girl took one look at it, furrowed her eyebrows, before an understanding look crossed her eyes. She began to apply the technique to the other problems and earnestly worked through the schoolwork.

“If only we had enough money to send you to Polytechnic,” Becca quietly commented, as she slid into the seat on the other side of her adopted daughter.

“Would have been bored with all of the academics,” he stated, shrugging.

He glanced over at what Becca’s daughter was still working on. “She’s got the concept down faster than I did. Hope you’re saving up for her chance at Polytechnic.”

“That’s… Riemannian differential geome—” Underwood’s surprised comment from above them, was cut short before it could fully form. The door opened again – the matriarch of the Barnes family had returned.

He cleared the plate off the table, handing it over to Becca, as their mother put the box of cannoli on the table. The rest of the family, drawn by the return of the Barnes matriarch, gathered again. Before anyone could open the box, Bucky saw his mother take a knife from the block and slice into the bottom of the box of cannoli.

A folder, slightly thick, but thin enough to be concealed within the box was withdrawn. That folder was handed to Dottie. Bucky withdrew a lighter and a pack of cigarettes from his pockets and tossed that to the woman as well.

“Smoke in the bathroom and run the shower when you’re done, Underwood,” he stated, going over to draw his coat on before picking up his suitcase. “You’re required for the operation, Black Widow.”

“And you, Winter Soldier?” she asked, giving him an unreadable look.

He didn’t answer her and turned to his mother, saying, “My commander optioned you for the operation as well, but no one else in the family, though. I insisted that it be your choice, Mom.”

“Did you update your Will, James?” his mother asked.

A hush fell over those gathered. Bucky saw clear concern in their eyes – his mother included.

They had every right to be concerned – after all, they had been discreetly supplementing the reports that the Brooklyn facility reviewed each morning. He wouldn’t put it past his family that they knew of the increased open harassment and stalking by the sixteen remaining Widows.

“This morning,” he said, telling them the truth.

She silently nodded. Then, she reached into the box of cannoli and withdrew a stars-and-stripes decorated cannolo. While normally produced during the 4 th  of July as a special, Bucky had learned that during the war, the owner of the Italian bakery had decided to make it a constant offering – because of Captain America.

Taking a cloth napkin, she wrapped the artfully decorated sweet pastry and pressed it into his free hand. “Tell your commander that I’ll be going by the call-sign of White Wolf.”

“Will do,” he answered, and left.

* * *

 _Evening, January 31_ _st_ _, 1949…_

Snow had not yet begun to fall, but the clouds were thick and threatening enough that Steve was slightly worried that the storm would be unleashed soon. He wanted to avoid that as much as possible – given that erasing footprints from the rooftops, alleyways, or otherwise around the SSR would be difficult with him as the lone guard now.

The tiny _thwip_ near Steve’s left alerted him to something – or someone – traveling by rooftop. He glanced over, and saw movements in the shadows one rooftop over. His enhanced vision picked out Bucky – deliberately approaching in a visible manner that only he could see.

Tapping the alpha-numeric code on the keypad near the door, the pressure sensors hidden along the rooftop of the Brooklyn facility were deactivated. The door’s sensor remained active, as did the rest of the SSR’s security system.

A few seconds later, Bucky landed on the rooftop. Even in the darkness of a cloudy night, Steve could still see his eyes – unreadable, coldly blank. The persona of the Winter Soldier that stood before him.

Bucky was dressed the part too – all black; the armor he wore in 2012 upon him, except that the sleeveless part was now sleeved in black. The silver arm, even with no one within a radius of a city block up here, was a beacon that could not be shown.

“Bucky,” Steve began, knowing that he owed his best friend an explanation – if Bucky was still willing to listen to him.

Bucky walking back into the SSR yesterday morning had been the last time Steve had seen him. His best friend had left without a word to him. Peggy had stopped him from going to talk to him before he left – to apologize.

Steve wasn’t even sure he was allowed to call Bucky his best friend anymore.

Bucky said nothing and approached. Yet, he didn’t brush past Steve, and stopped before him. Standing face-to-face – eyes still unreadable and cold. Still the Winter Soldier.

“Bucky, I’m so sorry,” Steve said before anything else could stop him. “Please. I know that you’ll probably never forgive me, but I just wanted you to know that I didn’t want to hurt you—”

Steve abruptly fell silent. Bucky had suddenly raised his gloved left hand up towards Steve’s face. The brush of Bucky’s gloved fingers against the still-healing bruise between his right cheekbone and temple was gentler than Steve expected.

“Michael cornered me before he left today. Said I deserved more than just that bruise on my face for what I did to you. Said I didn’t deserve someone like you,” he whispered, answering the unspoken question.

“I wish he had done more than just punch me in the face—” Steve began, but fell silent as Bucky abruptly withdrew his hand.

The unexpected closeness, and the feather-light brush of Bucky’s lips on the bruise startled Steve. A warmth of surprise bloomed within him, and grew when Bucky pulled back to stand before him again.

Gone was the Winter Soldier persona – replaced by a familiar look in Bucky’s eyes. There was no laughter, only seriousness. Yet, Steve saw the depths of concern and protectiveness within those eyes of his best friend.

“He fell for it then,” Bucky stated.

At that, Steve couldn’t help but frown. “Fell for it? Bucky, I was trying to keep him from finding out that I—”

“Which Peggy did a marvelous job of handling,” Bucky answered. “All to focus his anger on you. Is that all he said before he clocked you? No mention of Peggy?”

Steve felt slightly confused. He had only agreed to Peggy’s plan because they needed a way to get Bucky out – legitimately. To make sure that if Bucky happened to tell Michael before he left, what had happened, that he could do so with absolute conviction.

He did not doubt his best friend’s silver-tongued skills, but Bucky had already been emotionally compromised by Michael once. Steve was reminded of Fury’s words of wisdom for a compromised agent – and one that he distinctly remembered being used on himself in 2014.

“No,” he carefully stated.

“Think it odd that he’d not even mention Peggy once then, Steve?” Bucky asked.

“No… yeah,” Steve agreed, thinking about it a little more in depth. “Cast as the villain,” he couldn’t help but murmur.

“Well, you technically are one,” Bucky pointed out.

“Bucky,” Steve said, shame flooding him, “I didn’t want to do that—”

“You’re still a terrible liar, even if you’re getting better at hiding the intent, Steve. I’m just glad Peggy made you do it – instead of letting the Wolf Spider exploit it,” Bucky stated in a matter-of-fact tone. “The Wolf Spider invoked those commands on my counterpart in 1970, Steve. He saw that your counterpart was getting through to my 1970’s self – probably remembered what we had, and exploited it to the fullest. Not just to hurt you, but to hurt Peggy and the others.”

_It hurt, Steve._

Steve couldn’t help but remember Bucky stating that to him. Of Bucky in the future, describing what it felt like to have the infernal conditioning commands extracted. If it hurt to remove them, then he could reasonably assume it hurt a lot more to apply or even invoke them.

Hatred clawed at him, but it was the spark of hope, that candle that still burned in the corner of his mind, that kept his cold anger from becoming a glacial crevasse. That if they could _prove_ that Michael was not the Wolf Spider—

“Briefing in a few,” Bucky said, shaking Steve out of his thoughts. “You okay with this?”

“Dottie Underwood knowing that I am alive?” Steve asked. “Yeah. Your mother, I don’t know. Ever since you told me who she really was… I feel like I didn’t really know her all that well.”

“And yet, she patiently taught you to cook, sew, and even baked you cookies, Steve,” Bucky said. There was understanding in his friend’s tone. “You know her. The real her. The one who loved you like another son.”

“But she’s your mother, Bucky,” he couldn’t help but say. He didn’t know why just the fact that Bucky’s mother – all the nice things that Bucky had said – and more, was making him slightly nervous.

“And you’re Steve Rogers. The skinny kid with the scraped knees,” Bucky answered.

“Not so skinny anymore,” Steve muttered.

Either Bucky didn’t hear, or chose to ignore him, as he stepped away and made his way to the center of the rooftops – visible to their incoming guests. Steve remained in the shadows. He would not reveal himself until he could confirm that neither Underwood or Bucky’s mother had shadows following them.

Underwood and Bucky’s mother arrived from the south and west, respectively. Both had taken separate routes, and from what he could see, neither had been followed. Their body language – while difficult to read strictly due to the fact that both were Black Widows – showed no signs of fight or flight from being followed.

“Winter Soldier,” he heard Bucky’s mother crisply address. Underwood had greeted Bucky in the same manner, though there was slight annoyance that Steve heard in that tone.

“White Wolf. Black Widow,” Bucky stated their code-names. “The objectives of this operation—”

“Hold,” Bucky’s mother interrupted. “There is another presence here besides the three of us.”

As surprised as Steve was that he had been swiftly detected by Bucky’s mother, he supposed that it would only have been a matter of time. The first of the Black Widows – Vera Romanova – was just as good, if not better than Natasha.

“The objectives of this operation—” Steve began, stepping out from where he had been carefully watching the three.

He approached them, carefully evaluating and gauging the two women’s reactions, as he continued to say, “Are to take out all Soviet operatives within the city, including the sixteen remaining Black Widows. In addition to that, we are to assess whether or not Michael Carter is the Soviet operative named Wolf Spider.”

“And if proven to be, to assassinate him,” Bucky finished up.

~*~*~*~


	27. The Machination – Part 2

**Chapter 22: The Machination – Part 2**

Steve expected the silence to follow the declaration. Expected it to last for at least a minute, perhaps more. Expected the shocked stares, the gob-smacked looks—

What he did not expect was for Bucky’s mother to suddenly close the distance and embrace him. “My son’s sun,” she warmly whispered into his ear. “Center of light, love, and hope.”

Her words were spoken soft enough that he didn’t think Bucky heard it. But just as quickly as she had embraced him, she let go and stepped back – expression a mask of professionalism again.

“Ma’am,” Steve acknowledged, tucking away his slight puzzlement at her words to the side.

“Vera,” Bucky’s mother stated. “White Wolf over comms, if you will be utilizing them.”

“Vera,” Steve acknowledged, somehow managing to keep his expression neutral.

He had to remind himself that Vera did not know the significance of the call-sign ‘White Wolf’. Bucky, the future 2023-Bucky he had left behind had chosen that call-sign. Steve didn’t know the entire story behind it, but he was fairly sure that it was Bucky’s way of leaving his old life of the Winter Soldier behind, and adopting a new one.

He didn’t know why Vera chose the call-sign, except perhaps whimsy. Between his own, along with Bucky’s reclamation of the Winter Soldier name, and Dottie Underwood’s Black Widow; they were all quite strong names.

Steve glanced at Dottie Underwood to see if she had any preference on what she wanted to be called outside of the mission. She still had the last vestiges of shock on her face, but it seemed that Vera’s actions had quickly put that to rest.

“Dottie,” she said after a moment, taking a step forward and surprising Steve by extending a hand out to shake.

“Steve,” he answered, smiling slightly as he shook her hand.

He didn’t miss the flash of smirking amusement to flit across Bucky’s face, and neither did Vera. Dottie did not seem to be amused at the smug look Bucky was giving her, but settled for merely glaring at him.

Steve didn’t bother asking what the hell was up between the two. Whatever the two’s problems were with each other, was for Bucky and Dottie to work it out on their own. The fact that they were able to tolerate each other’s presence here and now was more than enough for him.

He yielded the briefing to Bucky, tilting his head slightly towards his best friend. Bucky was the one who had a lot more experience and information than he did on the Wolf Spider.

It was also Philips who had given Bucky the assassination assignment. Steve wanted to give him the agency to choose if or when to carry out those orders. And to inform Vera and Dottie to the relevant parts of the mission. The questions on how he, Steve, was alive could be answered at another time – if even at all.

“A tall order to carry out, Winter Soldier,” Dottie stated. “Why not just kill the Wolf Spider right now, and be done with it?”

“Because he is Peggy Carter’s brother. And, we just don’t execute people here in the United States for being associated with criminal acts – peripheral or not,” Steve jumped in before Bucky could. He could see and hear a little of what possibly irritated Bucky about Dottie, and sympathized.

“Regardless,” Bucky spoke up before Dottie could make another snide comment. “What we do know is that Michael Carter was captured in early 1942 by HYDRA. He fell into Soviet hands somewhere after that, and was found and rescued by the SSR in late 1944. He was working jointly with the SSR as a liaised SOE agent, until his recapture by Soviet forces on May 6th, 1945. We’ve confirmed that he was an unstably active double-agent during his time with the SSR.”

“There’s a gap of information about the Wolf Spider between May 6th, 1945 and September 24th, 1946. We don’t know what the Soviets might have done to him,” Bucky explained. “Unless either of you have additional information to share right now, all of the Wolf Spider’s whereabouts have been accounted for a few months before the start of the gap, and everything after that gap.”

“Did the passphrase not work?” Dottie asked, puzzled.

“If it did, there’s been no change in Michael’s personality,” Bucky answered.

At that, Dottie frowned. For a few seconds, Steve was struck by how human the current Black Widow looked. He was reminded of the fact that for all the destruction and death Dottie and her cohorts had caused in this point in time, they were soldiers – proxy soldiers – in a war not of their own doing or choice. They thought – like he did a long time ago – that what they did was justified and right for their country.

“Then how do you propose we examine that gap?” Vera asked.

“The Wolf Spider is currently employed as a bodyguard to a MI-5 engineer working in this facility. We kidnap the engineer, and see how he reacts. If he utilizes the sixteen Widows, if their activities in harassing and stalking the SSR’s employees stop, or if the incidents are separate. We find as much solid proof as possible – for or against Michael Carter being the Wolf Spider.”

“And what is your role in all this, Steve?” Vera asked, giving him a slightly curious look.

“I make sure that this facility remains safe during this operation,” Steve stated. “I’ll relay any intelligence with regards to the Winter Soldier’s operation, if it arises. But my duty is to this facility and it’s people, first.”

“You’re different,” Dottie spoke up, giving him a rather smoldering up-down look. “Definitely not like the propaganda videos from the war.”

Having long been used to the sized up looks that Natasha gave him whenever they sparred, Steve ignored it. It warmed his heart a little to see Bucky immediately shoot a heated glare at Dottie. Even more surprising was that Vera had glanced over at Dottie, expression baldly showing her disapproval.

“Thanks,” he dryly answered.

“To minimize the risks, we’ll take the next few days to establish a safe house that is not known to SSR personnel. We’ll also conduct observations of the Wolf Spider’s patterns outside of his duties as bodyguard,” Bucky continued after a moment. “Then, we strike.”

“The reaction from the SSR has to be real,” Steve stated. “It’s the only way we’ll be able to gauge whether or not Michael is the Wolf Spider.”

“Which means that if the three of us get caught, we’ll be disavowed by Philips,” Bucky followed up.

“And if we find proof? Are you still willing to kill the Wolf Spider, Winter Soldier?” Vera questioned.

There was a rather frightening look in her eyes – one that Steve did not recognize at all. It sent chills down his body; and at the same time, he found that he could not look away. Thankfully, Bucky didn’t seem to be as affected by it as him or Dottie for the matter.

“Yes,” Steve heard his best friend state.

It seemed that the answer was enough for Vera to be satisfied. Steve felt a bloom of warmth and satisfaction from the Soul Stone – Natasha was happy with Bucky’s decisive, unwavering answer.

And that was what worried Steve. The fact that each time Bucky seemed to catch a break, find possible love apart and away from him – Steve – and try to live life, it was violently clawed away. It was as if God didn’t want his best friend to have any comforts of a fulfilling life.

“What of the sixteen Widows?” Dottie asked. “Do we strike at them first before the Wolf Spider?”

“We strike as necessary. And if the Wolf Spider is associated with them, all at once and before we take out the Wolf Spider. If there are no affiliations or contacts, then we quietly take them out,” Bucky stated.

“Quietly,” Dottie repeated, dubious. “You’ve seen and experienced how they moved and acted with their weapons and creatures, Winter Soldier.”

“And you’ve seen how easy it was to kill five when they attacked you and Peggy,” Bucky fired back. “They’re the least of our worries,” he stated after a moment. “It is any other unaccounted for assets that may be at the Wolf Spider’s disposal, that will be the largest concern.”

“Europe has been compromised?” Vera asked, concerned.

“Completely,” Bucky stated. “Philips is the only one who knows, and has been cleared.”

Silence fell among them for a few moments before Vera spoke up, saying, “Dead drop for the location of the safe house will be placed at the corner where the ice cream man used to sell his wares before the war. Look for the sign on the mailbox near it.”

“Will do,” Bucky said.

Knowing that the briefing was over, Steve said, “Good hunting.”

“May fortune favor us all,” Vera answered in kind.

Dottie and Vera left much like the same way they had appeared – stealthy and silent. Steve was still a little perplexed at just how coldly professional Bucky’s mother was – she didn’t even stay to say a personal farewell to Bucky.

Yet, it was Bucky who slung an arm around his shoulders, pulled him close and guided both of them back towards the rooftop door, that shook Steve out of his musings. Wordlessly, Steve slung his arm around his best friend’s shoulders.

“Hey—” he began, glancing over.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” Bucky finished up, lips quirking up in amusement. “I know. You too, punk.”

“Yeah, jerk,” Steve answered, grinning, even though the area where Michael had punched him still stung. “End of the line?” he asked as they stopped before the door.

“Forward and together.”

* * *

_Dawn, February 4 th, 1949…_

“Phone sex.”

Startled by the unexpected statement, and intrusion into the quietness that surrounded him, Steve looked up. Sitting across the table in the main facility was Tony; looking quite healthy and healed. Even the gold and red armor he wore looked polished and crisp.

“What?” Steve questioned, hoping that he had misheard Tony.

“Phone sex,” Tony stated again, putting his feet up on the table – directly on top of a few diagrams he was going to look at. “Tell me you’ve heard of it? Or even done it before?”

“Not dead, Tony,” Steve groused, rolling his eyes at the same time he used the tin box that contained his pencils to push Tony’s feet off the table.

“No, but the snow storm that started last night would’ve been an extremely good time to have done it—”

“Tony,” Steve started, shaking his head before burying his head in his hands. “I am _not_ having this conversation with you. What I do or say in private is none of your business.”

“I’m just saying, Rogers… it’s been a while—”

“Oh, for crying out loud,” Steve said, looking up at Tony. “Are you actually—”

“Ignore him, Steve,” Natasha pipped up as she materialized directly next to Tony and promptly shoved him out of his seat. Tony tumbled to the floor with an indignant squawk of protest.

“Was trying to,” Steve muttered.

He glanced down at the maps of what Thor and Rocket had sketched out of Asgard – or at least the routes the two took in the labyrinthine palace. It was going to be hell, just to find a good way to avoid the guards to return the Reality Stone. But if he could convince Thor’s mother, Frigga—

“What?” Tony said, scrambling up and snatched another seat to sit across from him again. “I’m just saying, a man’s got his needs—”

“You might,” Natasha interrupted.

Steve returned his attention on his friends. Natasha was giving Tony what Steve knew to be her venomously sweet looks that could kill lesser men.

“But oh, wait. You’re dead. Bit hard to get it up when you’re dead with no blood flowing,” she snidely stated.

“Harsh, Romanov. Harsh,” Tony quipped, but didn’t seem at all offended. “But Steve here is venturing out into the wide world of multiple partners at the same time. I remember my first time doing such a thing, except that Dad didn’t like either of them. Relationships with both went downhill after that. Couldn’t keep up. Steve here… wife _and_ boyfriend. Don’t wanna see that fall apart after that big scare a few days ago. Gotta keep both happy—”

“Tony,” Steve warned, becoming slightly angry at Tony’s dismissive attitude. “Mine and my wife’s private lives are not up for discussion. Period. I didn’t ask or inquire about the details of your relationship with Pepper at all, so stay the hell out of our lives.”

“And Barnes is not his boyfriend, Tony,” Natasha stated, idly playing with one of the graphite pencils. “Not everything is about sex or sexual desires,” she continued to say. “If you’re so insistent on labeling all the little details of Steve’s life, label what he has with Barnes as a romantic friendship. Same kind of thing that Steve and I shared. Same kind of thing that he and Sam shared.”

“Thank you, Natasha,” Steve quietly said, surprised at the eloquent defense that she had given about him.

Natasha placed the pencil down and folded her hands together. “Why are you so obsessed with Steve’s private life, Tony? You weren’t ever this intrusive before.”

Tony remained silent, but just as he looked like he was going to fade away to avoid the question, Natasha reached out and latched onto his wrist. “Why, Stark?” she questioned.

Tony continued to remain silent, but did not fade away. Finally, after a few minutes, Steve heard him quietly say, “What the three of you are doing, with this insane plan to find evidence of the Wolf Spider… if Barnes goes through with the assassination, you’re going to lose one of them forever, Steve. Either your wife, or your best friend. You’re going to have to chose one if the Wolf Spider dies. You can’t have both.”

Steve realized that that was what was bothering Tony the most – the regrets he had left behind when he had died. The fight in the silo and what resulted from that. “Corrosive,” he murmured.

“Yeah,” Tony stated, sounding tired as he sighed. “Corrosive.”

“It’s not going to come down to that, Tony,” Steve stated. “We’ll find the proof that Michael isn’t—”

The sudden blare of not the three-toned beep of the partial lock down, but of an ear-piercing alarm cut off whatever else he was going to say. It was the full lock down alarm.

Steve immediately got up and raced up the stairs. The door to the facility was already locked as he typed in the code to silence the alarm. An audible hum filled the air where silence would normally be.

Tapping the inset in the device on his wrist, he activated his vibranium armor and went back down to the floor. Picking up the shield, he slotted it against his back, and picked up Mjolinir. That was attached to his waist belt, as he went to wait by the lone phone within the area. Both Tony and Natasha had also risen and stood near the time-jumping device.

The phone was now his only life-line to the outside world. He was completely cut off and locked within the facility as soon as someone had triggered the complete lock down beacon.

Thirty seconds later, the phone rang. Steve picked it up, curtly saying, “Secured.”

“Michael activated the beacon. I’m on my way to the hotel,” Peggy stated with little inflection in her tone.

Yet, Steve could still hear the barest traces of worry, of the _hurt_ she felt in carrying out this operation. There was very little he could do to comfort Peggy; they hadn’t even shared a bed since Bucky had ‘left’.

All to maintain the illusion – at least Steve hoped it was more illusion than actuality.

“Copy,” he answered, and hung up.

There was so much more he wanted to say, but the less this line was used, the better. Howard, even Tony had verified that it had not yet been tapped, but with the operation to flush out the sixteen Widows and Wolf Spider underway, Steve didn’t want to chance it.

Steve glanced down at the phone, before raising his eyes towards door. “It’s started,” he stated out loud.

“Then good hunting, to us all,” Tony’s surprising words caused Steve to look towards his friends.

Steve saw worry and concern in both of their expressions. It was rare to see them like this – especially with the confidence that both of them carried up on them. He nodded once, hoping his own confidence was enough to bolster them.

~~~

_A few blocks away…_

The fact that Underwood had gotten David out of the hotel before Michael even had a chance to activate the beacon was a miracle in itself. Doing so while in the middle of a snow storm that completely ground the predawn activities of the city to a halt was even more impressive. Underwood had not even slipped on the sidewalks while carrying the unconscious David into the nearest alleyway.

In the past few days, Bucky had counted only the three lookouts that roamed the rooftop of the hotel and streets below. They were a part of the 107 th  protection detail that Peggy had assigned.

But then, the storm had hit – blanketing the entire city in an enormous amount of snow. Using the logic that no one would even dare to make a move in the dreadful weather, both Michael and Peggy had agreed to move the detail to within the hotel. Howard’s detail had done the same.

That was when he, along with his mother and Underwood decided to strike. Bucky had been carefully watching the respective rooms that Michael and David occupied in the hotel through his sniper scope.

It wasn’t through the night-vision setting, but through the improved after-image lens that he distinctly remembered testing out while deployed to Estonia during the war. It still made him a little dizzy, but somehow, David had gotten it to work – improved it enough that he had almost x-ray vision through curtained windows.

It was how he was able to peer into the hotel at the moment – the scope just powerful enough for him to look through windows, but not through walls. The technology was dangerous enough, but David had not told him how he had constructed and built the scope’s unique state.

Like so many times before, David had decided to forego sleep and work on some gadget. Michael was occupying himself by reading a book that looked to have been read too many times over.

It had been a rather boring observation until Michael had suddenly closed his book and went to knock on the adjacent doors to his and David’s respective rooms. David had let Michael in, and Bucky had read his friend’s lips through the scope – saying that he would get to sleep soon, so that Michael could as well.

Bucky had to suppress a slight grin at that; apparently David knew that his sleepless tendencies was keeping Michael up. But that grin never fully manifested as he had seen Michael suddenly crowd David closer to a wall.

Because of just how he was positioned, angled, and where his two targets were, Bucky didn’t realize that Michael was _seducing_ David of all people. Not until they were moving away from the wall and towards David’s bed.

Alarm and utter surprise had filled him. Yet, watching his ex-lover _and_ the engineer who had confessed to liking him, Bucky, have sex, was the least of his problems. The tiniest of movements outside of the hotel, but caught on the periphery of his scope, had drawn his attention away.

The operation had encountered four _new_ snags.

Two of the four, dressed in all-black materials, were shuffling into watch position on the rooftop. Bucky didn’t know who they were, or what they were doing here, but he did know that there were no other high-valued targets in the hotel. The SSR had deliberately made sure of that.

The two on the rooftops were male and female. And two more were taking up position on the ground. They were all armed with close-quarters weapons—

Bucky knew that Underwood was on her way; and whomever the hell these people taking position were, were a big problem.

There had been no time to waive off Underwood from her mission. They were not comm connected for this portion – it being too dangerous for possible tapping, or even to be overheard.

Swiftly, Bucky had fired twelve bullets, three each for all four – center of mass. He couldn’t risk head shots; knowing that his reputation for uncanny accuracy would be a complete giveaway here and now that he had not returned to Europe.

He had to thank his lucky stars that David had found a way to slightly muffle the report of the rifle shots. Distance and further cloths wrapped tightly around the rifle to further sound-proof it did the job.

All four targets collapsed in less than five seconds.

Bucky didn’t know if one had managed to squawk through the comm, but as he trained his scope back through the window, he didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. Well… comparatively ordinary against the unexpected sex the two were having.

Panning away, he had then carefully peered up and down the streets where the two agents on the ground had fallen. At the rate the snow was falling, there was already a fair dusting on their bodies. Another hour, they would be covered in a few inches. A half hour after that, dawn would cast her rays over storm-battered New York.

There had been no movement coming up or down the roads.

Bucky then returned his scope up to the rooftops, and caught the tail end of the tiniest of movement near the two bodies. Flipping to the night vision on his scope, he saw the familiar figure of Dottie Underwood crouched next to one of the dead bodies. She was carefully examining it.

After a few minutes, she made the tiniest of signals – knowing that he was somewhere within the vicinity, watching either her or the hotel. She repeated the signal twice more – and all Bucky could do at that moment was hold his breadth, his anger within him.

Underwood had signaled a mime of a sickle and hammer. Soviet agents. Identities unknown to him, but she recognized them. He would have to wait until he could rendezvous with her at the safe house to hear what she knew.

He didn’t signal the acknowledgment back to her – it was too risky for him to do so.

Underwood’s route had taken her through the vents. Bucky had no direction for her on how to take down the 107th assigned to guard the rooms, except to not kill them.

Dawn had almost been upon both of them when Underwood finally emerged with David; the engineer unconscious. Bucky could only surmise that she had to wait until Michael and David had exhausted themselves from sex.

At the present, as soon as Michael had woken up and discovered that the 107th agents were knocked out – and David missing, Bucky saw him trigger the emergency lock down. Bucky didn’t wait a moment longer and pulled himself out of there.

Police and SSR Agents from both Headquarters _and_ those assigned to Brooklyn would be swarming the area within minutes – even with the enormous amount of snow in the streets. Bucky only had a tiny window to get out, cover his tracks in the snow, and slip out of the net that was to form for several blocks.

Keeping to the alleyways, and waiting as the sirens of the police wailed down the streets, Bucky only paused once to sling his sniper rifle from his back and take it apart. But only just enough to stow it in the bag that he then slung across his shoulder.

About an hour later, with the light across New York become a little more brighter, but still grey and snowy, he arrived at the secret safe house. Whatever this place had been, it was clear that it functioned in a similar manner to the abandoned apartment building he had initially taken Underwood to.

Except that it was clear across Brooklyn, and a lot more unfriendly. At least unfriendly to federal agents and other law enforcement people. None of the homeless population, squatters, or alcoholic bums who lived in the neighborhood paid him any heed.

The presence that Bucky exuded and pulled around him was dangerous enough that they shied away as he silently and swiftly climbed the emergency stairwell to get to the building’s rooftop. And he could reasonably assume that the population here did not give his mother or Underwood any trouble either.

When he verbally coded-in and entered the safe house, Underwood was situated near the moldy, moth-eaten and holed couch. She was watching David with an oddly fond look on her face. His mother had returned to sitting at the table, carefully listening via headset to what looked like a pirate radio.

Where she had gotten the equipment, and few other things was not for him to know. Nor did he ask; it was better for him to not know. He had already seen the bits and pieces of what her life as Imperial Russia’s finest agent had been like during Operation Midnight – especially the various caches that her former handlers had abandoned after the revolution.

“< _He’s such a screamer._ >” Underwood stated in Russian, eyes still on David. “< _So passionate in the throes of_ _ecstasy._ _Ivchenko did condition the Wolf Spider well enough that I am a touch jealous._ _It’s a wonder the guards outside his door didn’t hear t_ _hem_ _._ >”

“< _Music to your ears then._ >” he caustically stated, dropping the bag on the other side of couch and took a seat on the floor. He didn’t really care for Underwood’s inane commentary.

“< _So, who are_ _the four_ _?_ >” he asked, knowing that she knew he wanted information on her signal that depicted the sickle and hammer.

“< _Or did they?_ >” Underwood mused, ignoring his question.

Bucky didn’t answer, and silently waited for her to continue to speak. It wasn’t until his mother pulled off the headphones and looked up at both of them that Underwood broke her silence.

“< _There’s a sixth one?_ >” she asked.

His mother nodded once. “< _Formerly trained in our school_ _, if the references to ‘the cat’ or ‘a cat’ are any indication._ >”

“< _There’s_ _ **another**_ _program?_ >” Bucky asked, feeling just slightly irritated enough.

“< _One that was commissioned by the_ _Tsar_ _himself._ _An elite group of soldiers – men and women – trained to_ _absolute_ _excellence to b_ _lend in,_ _speak several languages,_ _and topple regimes overnight_ _._ _To augment Imperial spies such as myself._ >” his mother explained. “< _Abandoned d_ _ue to infeasible expectations, and rising expense._ _Only one_ _passed qualifications_ _, but Nicholas refused to_ _consider_ _the candidate. His_ _participation in the first World War_ _was_ _also_ _costing too much,_ _his detractors becom_ _ing_ _too vocal and violent._ >”

“< _Abandoned._ >” Bucky repeated, absolutely not believing it.

“< _Resurrected, apparently._ >” Underwood stated. “< _I only know of one of the_ _m_ _– the_ _woman_ _you killed on the rooftop, Winter Soldier_ _. Her name was Katarina. She was a peer of mine during training. Matron pulled her out of training one day, and that was the last we saw her. Until she returned, two summers later, to ‘watch’ and ‘evaluate’ us at graduation. There were three men with her. Later, I heard a fourth man had joined them. Matron told us that they w_ _ould support us when possible in our duties_ _to the Motherland_ _._ >”

“< _They were known as the Winter Guard_.>” his mother followed up.

* * *

_S SR Brooklyn Facility…_

“Michael Walker, Alexander Smith, Katherine Rosen, Andrew Gunn, and Nicholas Morris,” Steve couldn’t help the whisper that slipped from his lips.

Shakily, Steve placed the hastily developed photographs that had been taken by the SSR agents at the hotel crime scenes, on the table. It was not just the aliases of the five that he remembered, but the fact that all five members of the infamous Soviet Winter Guard strike team were _here_.

In New York.

Activated a lot earlier than he realized – or knew about.

The first time he had seen their bodies had been in the silo – and Michael had had a different face. All had been killed with bullets to the heads by Zemo. All to lure him, Bucky, and Tony to the silo and rip them apart.

_I am not the only Winter Soldier—_

“What?” Peggy’s soft but surprised exclamation brought Steve out of his memories.

She was holding his hands, and he realized that he was shaking ever so slightly. Concern swam in her eyes as she held his hands, hoping that the warmth of her fingers around his would help.

“The future,” he said, glancing down at the four photographs. “Those four. They were kept on ice. So was your brother, though he had a different face after 1970. Between them, they spoke at least thirty different languages, and had the capability to topple regimes overnight. They were known as the Winter Guard.”

“Michael Walker?” Peggy’s quiet question stirred him out of his staring at the photographs again.

“That… was your brother’s alias,” Steve admitted. He pointed to each of the pictures, identifying the others by their aliases.

“We can use this, Steve. Check the passenger manifests—” Peggy began, letting go of his hands as she collected the photographs.

“Peggy,” he said, placing his hands over hers. “You can’t. At least not with the rest of the SSR, or even your brother getting wind of the names.”

She looked up at him, puzzled. “He led this team,” he quietly answered. “There’s little information on them, but they were HYDRA’s most elite strike team, and controlled by the Soviets. We don’t know if your brother called in the team, or if they’re working independently. I don’t even know when your brother was recruited into the team in my timeline.”

He shook his head slightly. “All I know from 2012, was that it happened to your brother _after_ the war, _after_ everything. My being here changed. Take the names, but be careful with the cross-reference, Peggy. Please.”

She nodded. “There weren’t any other evidence over Howard’s residence – not like the hotel,” Peggy said after a moment, frowning slightly. “But the snow…”

Steve nodded in agreement to Peggy’s unspoken words. The snow and the general halting of city life made it difficult to uncover evidence at the moment. It had been an opportune time for both sides to strike – and he didn’t blame Bucky or the others for taking advantage of the foul weather.

He would have done so himself.

“If,” Peggy began, putting the photographs back into the folder. “If there is independent movement—”

“I’ll have Natasha relay that to Bucky tonight at the scheduled rendezvous time. That is, if you don’t mind having her linger out of sight in the SSR. She’ll be able to brief him on what’s been found.”

“What of the defense here?” Peggy asked, looking slightly concerned.

“It’ll be similar to what we initially established when we were keeping an eye on Dottie Underwood, ma’am,” Natasha suddenly spoke up, sitting at the table.

Steve watched as Peggy carefully considered Natasha’s words. Though he wasn’t completely in the know as to how Peggy and Natasha – and Bucky, he presumed – had involved themselves in the capture of Underwood, he knew Natasha was capable of the ranged protection.

With four of the six stones already returned, the strain of ensuring that the stones ‘behaved’ was lessened. Thus far, the Reality Stone didn’t seem to want to misbehave – so long as it was periodically ‘fed’ memories through usage.

Natasha was the Soul Stone, and Steve didn’t have to worry about any sort of control loss from her. Tony was a relay, and just recently, Steve discovered that a fragment of Bruce lived within the stone as well.

“All right,” Peggy agreed. “Michael will be at Headquarters for the immediate future, as will I. Per protocol, the operators will reactive the lines to here as soon as I return to Headquarters. Because of the situation, Howard, Mr. Jarvis, and several members of the 107th will be remaining here for the time being. Do you think you can work around that protocol, Steve?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “Shouldn’t be a problem, Pegs. Please be careful.”

She gently kissed him, drew back and said, “I will.”

Peggy left without another word. Steve partially drew a corner of the curtains back, and saw Peggy make her way down the stairs to the ground floor. Howard was there, already talking with Tony about what they could do to make sure the potential destruction of the device – if needed – was not going to set off the prototype arc reactor.

Jarvis was sitting at the table that held the folders and notepad of sketches. Mjolnir was lying on top of the folder. The butler looked worried, even with the ongoing discussion between Tony and Howard. Steve couldn’t help but wonder if Tony was going to reveal that explosives had already been integrated into the device.

“I think we have all the proof we need, Steve,” Natasha’s quiet statement drew his attention away. He dropped the curtain and looked over to see his friend with a pensive look on her face.

“The Winter Guard showing up—” he began.

“Is all the proof we need,” she interrupted.

“Comm lines? Any intercept or wire tapping? Do we even know how these four got into the United States? Were they just there to kill David, possibly kill Michael?” Steve questioned. “No,” he immediately continued before Natasha could interrupt.

“Close-quarter armaments,” he stated. “All-black clothing. Bucky shot them because he didn’t know what they were doing there either. Because he didn’t know if they were an actual threat to both Michael, David, and the 107th guarding them. It’s what he would say.”

Natasha didn’t say a word for a few long minutes. Instead, she was staring at him, not evaluating, but considering his words.

Steve wanted to press on, to say more to convince her, but he held his tongue. Natasha knew as much as he did about the Winter Guard – about their aliases, Zemo’s plan, the discovery of the dead team members in the Siberian silo.

“Steve,” Natasha began, looking uncharacteristically grim. “I trained with the Winter Soldier before… long ago. Long before I became the Black Widow.”

“Ten candidates,” Steve softly answered, taking a seat opposite of her at the table. “All Red Room agents. All trained by the Winter Soldier. Aliases given to them: Michael Walker, Alexander Smith, Katherine Rosen, Andrew Gunn, Nicholas Morris, John Berg, Anne Haas, Peter Franklin, Greg McQueen, and Natasha – you. The first five graduated to the Winter Soldier Program. The others… Bucky – our timeline’s Bucky – never told me of their fates when we spent time in that other reality. I don’t even know if he remembers.”

“James…” Natasha began, picking at the table. “James of our reality… was… he reminds me of the life I had before all of this. Reminds me—”

Steve remained silent as he saw tears spring up into her eyes. They didn’t fall, but she was trying to blink them away. Though he knew he could never understand how difficult this was for her, he wished that he could reach out and place a comforting hand on her own.

Whatever she was trying to tell him, was enough for him to just sit, listen, and consider her words. About the Winter Guard, about the proof that they supposedly now had.

“It was October of 1912,” she began, wiping at her eyes before looking down again. “Tsesarevich Alexei Nikolaevich suffered a bruise several weeks earlier while at a hunting retreat with his family. The wound hadn’t completely healed, when the hematoma ruptured and began to uncontrollably bleed.”

“Alexei suffered from hemophilia, no blood clotting. The Tsar and his wife were frantic to the point that last rites were given to Alexei when it looked like he would not make it.”

“Desperate, the Tsar turned to the secret research and development facility within the Guard Department – Imperial Russia’s intelligence arm – that his predecessor had set up and funded long ago. The Tsar never wanted to do anything with that portion of the Guard Department – finding the work, the experiments they did distasteful.”

“Until 1912. The scientists said they had something that could help, but it was completely unproven. The Tsar asked for it. I was given to him.”

“Something about my blood, Steve. I don’t know what it is about it, but I was able to clot Aloysha’s – Alexei’s – blood during transfusion. The Tsar was delighted, even when his wife brought Rasputin into the court and considered him to be the true healer. I was kept on as a blood donor for Aloysha, whenever needed, and as a playmate for both him and his sisters.”

Steve stared at her. He had no words to express both his horror and sadness at the life she had led—

“It wasn’t a cruel life,” Natasha continued, giving him a sad smile. “I liked it. It was better than being kept in that laboratory – poke and prodded all day. I had fresh air, I ran around, I played – like the child I actually was. Eventually, they considered betrothing me to Alexei. His sisters performed a mock weddings ceremony in celebration. I sometimes whispered my new name into the night, introducing myself as Grand Duchess Natalia Alianovna Romanova. I knew that I could never say it out loud until it became real.”

“It wasn’t until the two older sisters began to grow older and older, that I realized that I wasn’t growing with them. Or at least I wasn’t aging as fast as they all were.”

She drew her knees up to her chest and rested her chin on them. “I’m not immortal, Steve. Soul Stone proves that. I think I just age slower than everyone else. The revolution swept in, I saw the throne fall, and was shipped off with Aloysha, his other playmate, and the Imperial Family to house arrest. The night before the family was executed, Aloysha’s playmate and I were sent across the street and told to ‘go to family’. After that, I was taken away to somewhere in the steppes.”

Natasha fell silent for a few long seconds. “They kept me on ice, periodically thawing me to draw my blood whenever they ran out. I don’t know what they were doing with my blood, but I would put good money that someone got wind that German scientists were developing a super-soldier serum. Then World War Two struck.”

“They took me off ice, and put me in a cohort of girls. Trained me into becoming a Black Widow. But someone there wanted me to be something else – be a part of a team that could easily slip in and out behind lines. So they transferred me.”

“I met the man code-named Wolf Spider, and the other four who would eventually be a part of the Winter Guard. The other woman – Katarina – in the group didn’t like me. Told me that ‘there could only be one Black Widow in the web of sex and intrigue that was spun for the men’. I didn’t like her. It became intolerable enough that I walked out of there in broad daylight, and put myself back in cryo.”

“I wasn’t thawed again until I think… the 60’s. This time, I was put through the full Black Widow training regimen. But I wasn’t sent after a sister who was attempting to defect. They pulled me for another duty. I… didn’t always look the way I do now, Steve. After the fiasco in the 40’s, they still wanted to make the Winter Guard team work – but they were low on candidates. Ten of us in total. So the next best thing was to change my appearance, since my blood supposedly was able to adapt to alterations and hold them indefinitely.”

“I don’t remember much of the alteration process. But when I healed, they sent me to be further trained by the Winter Soldier, and integrated into the Winter Guard. That’s where I met James for the first time.” Natasha paused, but then said in a wistful tone, “I thought he was Aloysha come to life again – older, wiser, experienced. He secretly shared a cookie with me. I was… fourteen… fifteen? Hormonal, still getting use to my new appearance, and loving the attention James showered upon me. Especially when I was able to keep up with him whenever we sparred.”

She fell silent again, fiddling with fingers. “It wasn’t love, Steve,” she spoke up after a half-minute of silence. “What James and I had. It was…”

“Comfort. Mutual comfort while in captivity,” he softly answered in understanding.

“Something like that,” Natasha answered, nodding. “I learned later that those training and integration days were the longest that James had been ‘awake’ between memory wipes. Wolf Spider and Katarina noticed James’ careful attention on me; neither liked it. Physical alterations didn’t stop Katarina from recognizing me. And I think James’ appearance may have jogged some distant old programming in Wolf Spider – he was jealous of the attention that I held with James. It happened—”

“Nat,” Steve gently interrupted, shaking his head slightly. “You don’t have to tell me. I understand—”

“They didn’t rape me, Steve,” Natasha said, shaking her head. “They both knew that I was stronger than they were, and had fought both of them off before. Wolf Spider tried to kill me. He found some chemical mixture in the laboratories, and stabbed it into me _during_ one of the training sessions. I actually felt like I was dying Steve… until I wasn’t. Until whatever the hell they did to me kicked in to neutralize the mixture.”

“But James didn’t see it that way. He tried to kill Wolf Spider, but Wolf Spider knew the commands to stop him. Knew the commands to perform a dry reset. By the time I fought off the poison, the James I knew – my new Aloysha – was gone. I was removed, and returned to cryo. The next time I woke up was 1984. The Winter Guard were ‘asleep’ in their Siberian silo.”

“Natalia Alianovna Romanova, born in 1984,” Steve quietly stated. “The last of the Black Widows.”

Natasha nodded once. “And Natalia, known as Subject Sixteen of the Guard Department, first of the Winter Guard,” she confirmed.

* * *

_Nightfall, at the safe house…_

“< _Chloroform doesn’t usually last this long. What did you give him?_ >” Bucky demanded, as he finished cleaning his sniper rifle and began to assemble it back together.

Underwood didn’t answer and merely fished out a tiny vial that was half-full, along with the needle that had been used on David. She placed both on the vial and needle on the table.

Bucky picked up the vial and unstopped it. He wrinkled his nose ever so slightly at the sharp smell, before putting the stopper back in. Before he could comment on the chemical that Underwood had used, a patterned knock on the door was heard.

Taking his pistol up in his left hand, he got up and placed a firm hand on the door handle. Underwood had also gotten up and had her pistol out and at the ready. Bucky didn’t dare peek through the spyhole – that was asking for a bullet directly through the eye.

“Code in,” Underwood stated.

“Daisy,” the muffled voice of his mother came through.

Bucky still carefully opened the door, and allowed her to step in, before closing the door. A thick layer of snow covered her coat, but there was no sign of stress in her eyes. He knew that she was extremely good at concealing her emotions, but he was still able to pick out the subtle, tiny things that gave away how she felt about things.

She also had a crumpled bag of food – most likely sandwiches. Bucky could only assume that she had brought just enough to keep the other denizens who lingered in this area satisfied with offerings of food as well.

David began to stir even before his mother could get settled. Bucky returned to the moth-eaten couch, holstering his gun. As soon as David’s eyes began to blink open, he reached out to settle a hand on the engineer’s shoulder, helping him sit up.

“Whaaa…” David slurred almost incoherently. “Bucky?”

Bucky looked up as his mother passed him a mug of cold coffee from this morning. It was better than nothing though, as he then pressed the cup into David’s hands. It took David a few sips to regain some coherency and awareness of where he was.

“You’re safe,” he stated, as soon as he saw David go still and warily look around.

Underwood’s predatory smile that accompanied the teasing wave of her hand at David, was not helping. Bucky saw David’s eyes settle on his mother, but she had her imperious look up again, as if the engineer was simply another nuisance for her to deal with.

“Ow,” the engineer said, wincing as he brought a hand up against his forehead. “I don’t remember… What are you doing here? Where am I? London?”

“Drink some more coffee, David,” Bucky said, letting David go as he pushed the engineer’s hand holding the mug up. “Dehydration and a wicked headache are side effects of the drug Agent Underwood injected you with.”

“Agent…?” David began, squinting as he glanced at Dottie again.

“So is the lack drinking anything after sex,” Underwood stated in a matter-of-fact tone.

“What?” David questioned, looking utterly confused.

Bucky glared at the woman. At the same time, he noticed the time from the old mantel clock sitting on the tiny table behind Underwood. He was going to be late for the predetermined meeting with Natasha, if he didn’t leave now.

“Look, I’ll be back shortly, David. The thing to remember is that you’re safe. Agent Underwood is here to protect you until I return, all right?”

At almost the same time, he had signaled to his mother using his left hand that was not in the peripheral vision of David, to tell her that he had to ‘phone in’. Getting up, David swayed slightly, but the coffee was starting to make him more aware and coherent.

The engineer was looking at Underwood with some wariness, but Bucky ignored it all. He didn’t have time to smooth out anything between the two. Nor did he have time to linger and puzzle out why David seemed utterly confused that he had had sex with Michael.

Leaving David where he was, Bucky went over to grab his assembled sniper rifle. David had somehow found the strength to shift in his seat to watch him. Bucky double checked the number of bullets he had left, before slinging it over his shoulder. His pistol was secured at his side.

Without another glance at the two women or David, he left.

Outside of the building proper, the bitter cold winds of the storm’s aftermath whipped up and down the empty streets and alleyways. Snow drifts were piled high in some places as Bucky slowly made his way to the rendezvous point via rooftops.

When he got there, he took partial shelter against what looked like an abandoned and dead rooftop greenhouse. The glass ceiling was not shattered yet, but if the snow drifts piled any higher, he was fairly sure that it would collapse.

“The SSR has a few of their agents out in the streets. Police, not so much.”

Bucky glanced down from his survey of the glass domed structure. He had heard Natasha approaching – footsteps deliberately crunching in the snow. She was still dressed in the skin-tight, curve-accentuating outfit that looked wildly out of place against the snow and cold.

“Civilian snow emergencies?” Bucky guessed.

Natasha nodded once, before hopping to sit on one of the creaky, weather-worn tables that had held some kind of dead plant. “Agent Carter and her brother were both at Headquarters the entire day. Chief Thompson is trying to coordinate federal agency help, but with the East Coast paralyzed by this storm, help is a long time coming. You did good in the timing.”

“It’s what won D-Day,” he answered. “Four members of the Winter Guard showed up. I know from the 2012 information that there were five members – Michael being their leader. Problem was, was that they showed up at the hotel, before Underwood was set to infiltrate. Didn’t know who they were before all that, didn’t know if they were a threat to David or Michael, so I killed them.”

He took a deep breath, letting the sharp cold air invigorate him. “Underwood recognized one of them – the woman. Said her name was Katarina. The other agent—”

“Vera Romanova, your mother,” Natasha spoke up, nodding once.

“Guess you do know, then,” Bucky simply answered.

“She was legendary – both in the good and bad way – when the Matron talked about the history of the Widows. We didn’t know her name, but yeah… I listened in when you told Steve,” she stated.

He nodded. He was slowly getting used to the fact that perhaps after all of this, he would no longer have any secrets to keep from Steve. Or from Natasha – and possibly Steve’s friends within the stone.

It left him feeling naked and vulnerable, but thus far – not one of them had condemned him for any of his exposed secrets. But, Bucky knew that that also did not mean that everyone else could know, or accept if they knew.

For better or for worse, he knew that he had put himself in a vulnerable position when his Russian accent had slipped in Estonia all those years ago during the war. And that he had put himself in even more danger by revealing to both Peggy and Michael about his heritage before that fateful mission in 1945.

“Underwood and my mother both knew of this program – the Winter Guard,” he stated, focusing on the present. “It was apparently from the Guard Department days – during Imperial rule. Abandoned when there were not enough candidates, and resurrected during the war. This Katarina woman had been a part of Underwood’s Black Widow cohort. I remember seeing her with the Winter Guard in 1970.”

Natasha nodded. “If Michael was in communication with them, then there may be some RF spikes, or oddities during that time. What was he doing?”

Bucky glanced away for a moment, unsure if he himself could fully believe what had happened. The days that he had spent separated from those in 1949, and then experiencing the utter chaos of 1970 had shook him of whatever lingering desires or feelings he had left for Michael.

But none of that meant that Michael was the Wolf Spider. It was just that his own feelings in the matter were—

“Barnes?” Natasha’s prod brought him back to the present.

“He was having sex with David,” he said.

“What?”

Natasha’s disbelieving statement filled him with some relief. That he wasn’t the only one to find it incredibly strange.

He knew that both David and Michael preferred the company of them. Yet, he also knew that did not mean that either were unscrupulous with whom they chose to sleep with. If it came to simplistic explanations, out of the three of them, Bucky had to point to himself as being the unscrupulous one.

Neither David or Michael had ever shown an interest in each other – even after Michael had broken up with Bucky. It was just a little strange to fathom the two suddenly having sex the exact same night, or morning—

“Shit,” Bucky hissed, realizing something.

“Talk to me, Barnes,” Natasha coaxed.

“We might have prevented an operation from happening,” he began, frowning. “The four Winter Guard had close-quarters weaponry on them. But who’s operation and why? Were they going to kill David, Michael, or both?”

“Occupy a target, kill in the most opportune time,” Natasha said. “Sex would be it for a Black Widow. Probably the same for the Wolf Spider. You may have just saved your friend, even if it is odd that they’d have sex.”

“It would have brought a lock down to the facility, no matter what,” Bucky mused. “What was the goal then?”

“It is possible that because the SSR agents were pulled indoors, the Wolf Spider may have called in the Winter Guard for security purposes. If he did coordinate and throw that lure, the Wolf Spider knows that we’re onto the sixteen Widows. Occupied enough that he thought he could slip the Winter Guard in,” she answered.

“When did they start?” she asked after a moment’s contemplation.

“Hour, hour-and-a-half before dawn,” he answered. “I didn’t bother to watch.”

If she had any smart quip to his rather caustic statement, she didn’t say it. Instead, she said, “I’ll tell Agent Carter to check for any RF spikes during that time. Anything else?”

“We’ve been monitoring some channels ourselves, and picked up something interesting about an hour after the lock down was triggered,” Bucky continued. “There may be a sixth member to this Winter Guard team.”

“Details?” she asked.

“Only that my mother heard references to ‘a cat’ or ‘the cat’. Know anything from the future that’s not in the 2012 files that could help? Say from 2016 when that Zemo guy lured Steve and my counterpart to that silo?”

“At that point in time, there were only five members of the Winter Guard,” Natasha said, looking slightly apprehensive. “Since Steve came back, things have been… complicated.”

“Tell me about it,” Bucky couldn’t help but mutter.

It didn’t get the brief smile he had hoped to see appear on Natasha’s face. Instead, there was an even more worried look on her face than a minute ago. “There’s… a lot that people don’t know about me. And I’m not inclined to tell anyone else. Steve knows a little, but that’s because I need him to be aware of it.”

She fell silent for a moment before taking a deep breath and pulled out a piece of folded paper from a pocket that had been sewn into her outfit. Yet, she did not hand it to him just yet.

“I was… briefly a part of the Winter Guard,” Natasha began. “Or at least considered a candidate. Three times.”

He nodded, but did no push for her to elaborate. It was enough for him to connect the scattered dots to assume that the ‘training’ she had been talking about during the 1970’s operation to capture Zola was related.

Instead, he watched as she silently approached, holding the paper in her hands as if it were a live grenade. “The third time was the reason why I killed Michael in 1970 – for my counterpart there. The second and first times…”

She handed him the paper, but did not step back as he took it. “The second time was during the war. The same Katarina that Agent Underwood said was in her cohort… hated me. The Wolf Spider, not so much. It was late 1942 to early 1943 when that happened. They pulled me off the roster because of the incompatibility between Katarina and I. I don’t believe that the Winter Guard were fully activated during the war.”

Natasha paused for a moment. Bucky hadn’t opened the piece of paper yet; thoughts racing as to who or what exactly Natasha was. The last of the Black Widows – but she looked no older than Steve; if not younger.

“The first time,” Natasha continued, as Bucky glanced down to see her bring her hands to hover over his own – as if she wanted to grasp and hold for the sake of comfort. The hesitation and hint of misery in her tone was as clear as the bitterly cold night they stood in.

“The first time,” she repeated. “Was a few months before the fall of the throne. I was the only candidate because of all the subjects the Guard Department’s research and development arm, I was the only survivor of their experiments.”

“Were it not for the kindness of a certain Duchess in the Imperial Family that stopped it by issuing the suggestion of betrothal between myself and Tsesarevich Alexei Nikolaevich, I would have been taken. Her reason was that because my blood was able to halt the Tsesarevich’s uncontrollable bleeding, it would be prudent to marry the two of us to ensure that any heirs borne would not suffer the same as Alexei had.”

Bucky stared at her, stunned.

It wasn’t until she began to take small steps back, and look up, that she said, “That Duchess was your mother, James. Vera Fyodorovna Romanova, just returned from abroad in late 1916, when she presented herself at Court. She saw me; a child no older than Aloysha – a playmate of the family, knew what I was to the Guard Department, and saved me.”

“I was put on ice shortly after the family was killed. When I next awoke, they lied to me, to make me compliant and amenable to helping them. No Ivchenko or that foul ring of his, no embedded commands. Just the emotional manipulation of a young girl who had lost her adopted family. I gladly joined my handlers – just to get revenge on what they told me happened. They exploited it until there was nothing left.”

She took a deep breath, and nodded to the paper. “Using the Reality Stone, I had Steve sketch out what I looked like back then. It wasn’t until the third time that they decided to alter my appearance in the hopes that perhaps they could finally embed me into the Winter Guard.”

Bucky opened the paper, well aware that his hands were not shaking because of the cold. In the dim, darkness of the night, it should have been impossible to see anything on the sketch. Yet, Bucky could still make out the lines that Steve had drawn.

Ice and dread bloomed in his stomach – he recognized the portrait within the sketch.

“You need to watch for myself, James,” Natasha said. “I may not have been inducted into the Winter Guard, but if they were called in by the Wolf Spider, there is a chance that I myself may be as well.”

“Last of the Black Widows,” Bucky couldn’t help but say, as the paper shook ever so slightly in his hands. Dread was ever so slowly giving away to panic—

“First of the Winter Guard,” she softly stated. “Subject number sixteen of the Guard Department.”

“Natalia,” he began, swallowing hard as he took a shuddering breath. “It’s too late. Your younger self is already here. Already on US soil. Your counterpart’s alias here and now is Natalie Barnes Proctor. My sister – Becca’s – adopted daughter.”

~~~

_At the same time, SSR Headquarters…_

Peggy knocked on the door to the viewing room interrogation chamber. Her brother looked up and waved his hand for her to come in. She did so, and just as she closed the door, he hung up the phone.

“London?” she asked.

She had given him the privacy and quietness that he needed to conduct the phone calls to MI-5. Because of the strict delineation and certain agreements between the two intelligence organizations, there was only so much the SSR could do to help.

David was under the joint MI-5 and MI-6 employment agreement. Michael had specifically been assigned as his bodyguard – and it was his responsibility to clean up the mess.

Peggy had been surprised that her brother hadn’t been recalled yet. But according to him, MI-5 did not have the man power to spare a new agent to go abroad just yet. It was slightly odd, but given the world circumstances at the moment, it made sense.

She couldn’t help but wonder if Philips had also intervened in that aspect.

Speculations were not going to get her anywhere, but neither had direct observation of her brother’s actions and words. There had been only so many times she could occasionally pop her head into the viewing room, before Michael got suspicious.

Mindful of her own actions, and of Steve’s words this morning, Peggy had limited her visits only to bring food, and drinks. Twice, she got to deliver memos to him that had been wired. Each time, she heard the snatches of his frustrating conversations with those MI-5 personnel in London.

“Useless,” Michael stated. “Resources are currently tied up looking for a higher-profile nuclear physicist who disappeared two weeks ago. Snatched while en route to work. None to spare for an engineer here. Not even David’s father has the pull.”

She nodded. The nuclear physicist story was true. That had had some rippled impacts to the number of 107th assigned to help guard Howard and David.

“We’ll find him,” she said, reaching out and patted his hands.

He nodded, though his expression turned slightly more determined, more set. “Peggy,” he began, grasping her hand as he locked eyes with her.

“Yes?” she asked, the worry in her tone not entirely false.

“I know… I know of a possible asset that might be able to help with the search,” he stated.

“Asset? Or assets?” she questioned, giving him a slightly shrewd look.

“Asset,” he confirmed.

“One?” she asked, frowning. “This is an enormous city, Michael. Not to mention, covered in a lot of snow.”

“The asset knows where to look – where other agents, such as you or I, may miss,” Michael stated. “The asset is someone I met and befriended during the war. Had a lot of potential, but wouldn’t have ever qualified as MI-5 agent. I kept in periodic touch, until a couple of years ago.”

Peggy pursed her lips. Even if she didn’t know a thing about Michael's history or future from both Steve and Bucky, the request was odd. “Michael…” she began, carefully choosing her tone and words. “What are you asking me to do?”

“If I can get the asset here, I can’t have the SSR breathing down on the asset. I need you to keep the SSR placated. Trust me, please, Peggy. Finding David with the asset is worth it.”

Peggy knew she could ask for a delay to consider it, but with the urgency of the situation, it was not feasible. She couldn’t tell if this was a part of the innocence of her brother, or another ploy by the Wolf Spider; it was extremely difficult to discern truth from fiction.

She was beginning to see just why Philips had assigned Bucky to vet Michael during the war. And why Bucky had failed. Her own emotions, frustrations, and _want_ for her brother to be innocent was getting in the way. She had enough self-awareness to know that she wanted to deny – yet it could be proof of her brother’s innocence.

“Do it,” she said after a few moments of silence. “And let me know when your asset arrives.”

“Thank you, Peggy,” Michael said, grasping her hands and squeezing them. “I’ll explain everything once we find David, all right?”

“All right,” she said, squeezing his hands in return before getting up. As she left and quietly closed the door behind her, she hoped and prayed that her brother’s words were true.

Walking away, she let her heels click on the floor until she was sure that they were out of earshot for her brother. Peggy then removed her heels and quickly shuffled back to the men’s restroom near the interrogation room.

It was a stretch, but with it being night and most of the agents out searching, Peggy was a little safer in being not discovered going in and out of the men’s room. She entered, and took the single stall at the end of the room.

Fishing out the device she had stolen from the engineers on the floor below, she hoped that the ‘prototype’ was a working prototype. Putting the other end of the device near her ears, she then snaked the antennae up until the tip of it was going beyond and into the vent above.

Peggy immediately picked up the noise of the air exchange system, along with the faint voice of her brother on the phone…

“… yes it is,” she heard him say in a clipped, unusually cold tone into the phone. “I am requesting the package to be delivered with all haste. Sixteen is the designation. I expect confirmation and the paperwork within twenty-four hours.”

~*~*~*~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How old is Natasha? Old. I was hoping to incorporate the new Black Widow movie into the fic, but since that’s not out until whenever, I decided to go AU, and pull from history and comics for Natasha’s tragic backstory.
> 
> Also, weather has always played an important part in all of the novels, short stories, and fanfics that I’ve written. It has caused empires to rise and fall, attacks to be called off or won. D-Day was successful because of weather. Thus, it seems quite appropriate that Bucky, Steve, Peggy, Michael and the others would make sure to take every advantage of the weather, and carry out their operations.


	28. The Machination – Part 3

**Chapter 23: The Machination – Part 3**

“ _Natalia,” he began, swallowing hard as he took a shuddering breath. “It’s too late. Your younger self is already here. Already on US soil. Your counterpart’s alias here and now is Natalie Barnes Proctor. My sister – Becca’s – adopted daughter.”_

The paper lightly held in Bucky’s fingers felt like fire. Even to his metal fingers – it was a burning a piece of wood that should be dropped, or kicked away like an active grenade.

“When?”

Natasha’s sharp question caused him to snap his eyes up. It wasn’t a physical slap in the face, but it was enough to somewhat settle the panic that threatened to overwhelm him.

He had to tell himself that his sisters were safe, and his mother knew what she was doing. That his mother wouldn’t have left the girl they had found in the steppes, alive. That his mother had killed the other two – both younger than the girl – because she could not undo what was done to them.

He had to trust his mother’s judgment.

Bucky had long always trusted her; from her directing him and Becca to go to the antiques dealer in the East End of London whenever they didn’t feel comfortable walking alone; to Romano, the owner of the bakery where Bucky had arranged for the hand-off of Dottie’s briefing packet. His mother was a good judge of character, and even better secret keeper.

“Operation Midnight,” he answered. “A few months into the mission. In the steppes. You and two other girls were the survivors. My mother killed the other two and spared you. We took you with us until she was able to send word to get you across the border to China.”

As he spoke, he realized that his mother may have recognized Natalie from the pre-revolution days. He fell silent, unsure as to what else he could say.

“Go warn your mother, James,” Natasha carefully stated. “I’ll let Steve know.”

“She wouldn’t have brought you back, or left you alive…” Bucky began, but even as the half-denials died on his lips, he was already moving out. Natasha followed him, and wordlessly, took the sketch from him.

He was unfamiliar with this type of uncertainty, of the consequences that could and would arise by pulling his family into the spy’s life. He had always thought of himself as independent; his actions measured enough that he was able to keep his family distant and safe. That even if he missed them during the holidays – for the six years that he had not been able to see them – the distance was enough.

And he thought his mother had been doing the same – insulating and isolating him from his sisters, from family, to protect both them and him. Careful with the information she revealed to them about her heritage. Never did he ever think that the consequences—

“Barnes,” Natasha’s sharp, but softly stated call of his name brought him back to the present.

He was at the safe house’s door; guided there by his own two feet and instincts. Dottie had asked for the code-in phrase.

“Ember,” he stated.

As soon as the door opened, Natasha disappeared – most likely already on her way back to Steve. Bucky entered, but his grim thoughts were not the only ones to encounter an equally grim atmosphere that seemed to have fallen around the area.

David was sitting at the end of the couch, uncharacteristically curled up. It was clear that the engineer had been, or still was crying to himself – softly.

As soon as Bucky had entered, David had glanced over, before quickly looking away – misery and shame clearly lingering upon his expression. Closing the door behind him, Bucky shot both Dottie and his mother a puzzled look.

Wordlessly, his mother stepped away from the listening station, and he followed her into the single empty adjacent room that had served as a bedroom in the apartment. “What happened?” Bucky quietly questioned.

“Our best guess was that he was drugged,” his mother stated just as softly. “Black Widow gave him the correct amount to keep him under, but hadn’t accounted for the fact that there was another equally powerful drug within him. It’s the best explanation we could theorize why he didn’t wake up until now.”

Bucky frowned. “Do either of you know how and what type of drug?”

“I suspect that he was dosed with an inhalation type of drug that worked its way quickly through him. Made him more pliant, agreeable, and see things that were not there. Visages, people, images, memories—”

“He was raped,” Bucky bluntly stated, hands curling up into fists.

He had had every chance for that hour-and-a-half that he had seen Michael and David having sex, to stop it. And yet, he hadn’t. He ignored it because he had thought it differently.

White hot anger crashed upon him like a giant oceanic wave—

“James,” his mother’s clear, steady voice rang like a gong in his ear as he blinked. She had reached out, but had not placed a hand on his clothing-covered metal arm.

The whine of his metal arm was audible – incredibly audible and harsh. The sound was loud enough to bring Underwood to the threshold, but she remained where she was.

Bucky slowly uncurled his fingers from being fists. He could rage at the heavens for what Michael had done – but it would accomplish little. As much as he wanted to stomp out of the safe house and hunt Michael down, he stilled himself from that fantasy.

Proof. They needed proof. And Michael drugging and raping David was not proof – it was a death sentence for David if word ever got out. It was pure and simple blackmail. The purpose of that blackmail was still unknown.

With that firmly in his thoughts, Bucky took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. He let the fiery hot anger go, but kept the cold rage within him. Proof – that was what they needed. Blackmail, dirty blackmail was only circumstantial evidence that perhaps there was an operation going on. Yet, Bucky had killed four of those proofs on the hotel rooftop – the Winter Guard.

“We had proof,” he stated, realizing that both he and Underwood _had_ stopped an operation. “The Winter Guard.”

“Dead, but nonetheless true,” his mother stated. “Would them being alive and possibly stolen Mr. Brewster—”

“Doctor,” Bucky corrected almost absently. “David is a doctor of—”

“Nuclear physics and engineering,” David’s unexpectedly quiet but raw voice spoke up from behind Underwood.

Underwood stepped slightly to the side, allowing the engineer through. Red-rimmed and puffy eyes, half-dried tears, and a red nose that was still sniffling encompassed David. Yet, Bucky could clearly see anger radiating off of him – not directed at any of them though.

“I want in,” David stated. “Whatever bloody operation or mission you’re engaged in against that bastard, Bucky, I want in. I’ll not rest and let _my life_ be ruined—”

“We’re to find proof, Dr. Brewster,” Bucky’s mother cut in. “For or against Michael Carter being the Wolf Spider.”

“Wolf Spider,” David repeated, then took a short, but deep breath. “Is not what he did to me—”

“That’s blackmail, Doctor,” Underwood surprisingly spoke up in a sympathetic tone. “To keep you silent. Compliant—”

David swore. And Bucky knew and understood that it was not just what happened that his friend was raging against. This was too similar to the Alistair Brooke incident during the war, that became the backdrop of his and David’s first meeting.

And the backdrop of David’s confession to him; a confession that he, Bucky, had told Michael about. Just to put to rest any fears Michael may have had about the relationship between David and him.

Michael had exploited that.

“We had proof,” he spoke up before David’s curses could get any more lengthy or ever creative. “They were killed, due to unknown circumstances of their being here.”

“And still largely unknown if the Wolf Spider had called them in,” his mother stated, giving him a slightly questioning look.

Bucky shook his head. Natasha had not informed him about radio data or analyses from the day. It meant that either Peggy was still looking through the logs, or there were just too many to sift through.

He put money on the latter, rather than the former. Even multiple technicians working through the logs and analyzing the signals would be hard pressed to go through all frequencies that the SSR used and monitored, within a day.

“I did find out who potentially may be the sixth member of the Winter Guard is,” he said, briefly holding his eyes on his mother.

Bucky stepped away and made his way out of the room, making sure his sniper rifle was still snug and secured. “I’m going to retrieve her, and bring her here,” he said.

He paused at the entrance as he glanced back to see his mother frowning ever so slightly. There was a look in her eyes that told him that she suspected he knew what she knew – that her eyes merely confirmed Natasha’s story.

“Bucky…” David began, unsure.

“Winter Soldier?” Dottie questioned at the same time.

“My contact has yet to confirm, but I’m not waiting until it’s too late,” Bucky said, as he placed a hand on the door handle.

“She’s not a threat, James,” his mother stated.

“No, she wasn’t,” Bucky agreed, “that is, until we… I made whomever is the true conductor of this cat-and-mouse game, desperate with the deaths of the Winter Guard.”

~~~

_Brooklyn Facility…_

“Apparently, I’m already here.”

Steve looked up from his studying of the layout of the Asgardian fortress-city. Even this late at night, the clangs and bangs of Howard and Tony creating and implementing additional safety guards into the time-travel device were still on-going.

A few of the 107th, including Sousa, who had stepped up to be a competent substitute Agent-in-Charge in lieu of Peggy being here, were watching. None approached Howard or Tony – and even Jarvis was keeping his distance. Whatever the father-son pair were constructing, required concentration.

“Your counterpart has already been activated—” Steve began, returning to the present problem.

“No,” Natasha answered, shaking her head slightly. “At least not yet.”

She took a seat at the corner of the table, and briefly picked at her skin-tight outfit. There was a melancholic countenance about her, though that seemed to be enveloped in worry and concern. He could see that that worry was not for him, but fondly for Bucky.

Steve was not blind to see that she had all the right curves accentuated with the outfit – and even when not in the uniform and in civilian clothing. He knew that Howard’s eyes roamed appreciatively over Natasha whenever she appeared. But when it came to Bucky, both Natasha and Bucky’s behavior towards each other seemed… odd.

They were both certainty flirty at times. Steve had had enough experience to be able to discern when his two friends flirted with each other – and with others. But most of their flirtatious exchange was in a challenging kind of way – as if they were practicing or honing their ‘craft’ on each other.

Yet, Steve was again, not blind to understand that Natasha had a lot more history with the Winter Soldier – than to just put things aside and start anew. She held this timeline’s Bucky at arm’s length, and an even longer length when it came to James Barnes from their timeline.

“Operation Midnight,” she stated. “His mother and him found me and saved me. I… my counterpart here was adopted into their family. James’ sister, Becca, adopted me as her daughter.”

Steve couldn’t help but feel incredibly happy that Natasha of this timeline had found a better life. “That’s—” Steve began, but didn’t get to finish as a knock on his door interrupted them.

“Captain Rogers, sir,” Jarvis’ voice came from the other side. “The Starks are requesting your presence at the machine.”

“I’ll be right there, Jarvis,” Steve answered.

“I’ll let your wife know and show her the sketch,” Natasha said before Steve could continue.

“Nat,” he said, reaching out but remembering at the last second that to touch her was to dissolve. “You’re not a threat here—”

Natasha shook her head. “No,” she agreed. “But James put it succinctly when I listened in: when he killed the Winter Guard at the hotel, he made whomever is trying to orchestrate this, desperate. There’s still sixteen Widows out there, Steve. Sixteen of my sisters, trained to find. Trained to kill.”

She began to fade away. “James is going to find my counterpart, and I’ll inform your wife. But Steve, I think it’s best to prepare for the fact that to keep the remaining stones safe—”

“We may have to leave – permanently,” Steve finished up.

~~~

_SSR Headquarters…_

“ _I am requesting the package to be delivered with all haste. Sixteen is the designation. I expect confirmation and the paperwork within twenty-four hours.”_

The longer Peggy stared at the ceiling, the more the words seemed to send an unusual chill through her. It wasn’t the unusual clipped tone that her brother had used. Nor the fact that he wanted confirmation of whatever the hell was being delivered within twenty-four hours.

It was primarily the designation – sixteen.

It was fairly easy to link the designation number to the number of Widows remaining, but Peggy knew that that was too simple. She thought she knew her brother, but he seemed like a different person; since the end of last year.

The words he spoke, the gestures, and even the actions he took seemed the same. As if he were still going through the motions of being family to her and Steve, along with the convoluted longing and betrayal he felt towards Bucky. But his eyes—

It was as if there was no one home.

Surface-wise, she saw the feelings there, but depth-wise, there was nothing. It was as if she were looking into a crevasse and seeing nothing. Even stranger was that since the New Year, he had barely mentioned Bucky at all. All he had spoken to her was status updates on his protection detail on David, and asking after her and Steve.

Since the two had broken up, Peggy had been periodically talking to Michael on how to move on. How to untangle his and Bucky’s personal and professional lives once this time-jump mission was complete. Progress being made on repairing the two’s relationship from cold-shoulder to at least talking about security practices in the facility was good.

While she hadn’t expected her brother to open up to her about his personal life, he had done so as after she had confronted Bucky about his infidelity. Yet, since the end of last year, there had been no such talks.

Peggy knew that she shouldn’t be worried, but it didn’t sit well in her gut—

“What are you still doing here, Pegs?”

She shifted in the chair she was sitting at and lifted her head up from the table. The lights in the break room were off, but the hallway’s lights spilled into the room. The silhouette of her brother stood at the threshold.

“An engineer under my detail is missing. His bodyguard is here helping with the investigation,” she said sitting up straight, as he entered and took a seat across from her. “I’m not leaving until David is found. My resources are your resources.”

“But the facility—” Michael began.

“Is in good hands,” she answered. “Daniel will keep operations going, and I’ve been periodically checking in with them. Until David is found, we’re holding off on returning the remaining two stones. Thus far, the Reality Stone does not seem to be acting up.”

Michael was silent for a long few seconds before nodding. “I punched him, Peggy,” he said after another few seconds of silence.

Peggy saw him fold his hands together as he fiddled with his fingers before looking up. “I punched your husband for what he did to you.”

It was not quite an act, as Peggy glanced down at her own folded hands. She was still heavily conflicted in what she had done – had made her husband do. She had betrayed the trust, the relationship, and the closeness of her husband, and her husband’s best friend.

She had exploited it; and yet, of all of them, Bucky was the only one to state his relief that she had done so. It caused her to wonder just what her turned brother in 1970 had done to those versions of Steve and Bucky.

It also frightened her to think that her brother had done worse than she had.

“I haven’t contacted… James about David being missing yet—” she began, feeling that it was appropriate to now use Bucky’s given name in her lie, instead of being as ‘friendly’ as she had been.

“He’ll learn soon enough,” Michael growled.

Peggy looked up. She saw the correct expression, heard the tone, and saw the anger in his eyes. But that anger only laid on the surface – and before she could try to probe further, Michael looked away.

“James has resources both here and in Europe—” she began.

“Fuck James Barnes and fuck his resources!” her brother lashed out, nearly shouting his words.

“Michael,” she warned before he could launch into a tirade that involved the direct mentioning of Steve’s name.

He glared at her. Peggy did not miss the heat of it at all, but again, the depth of that heated glare was… not there. Surface-only and designed to frighten or cow, it was incredibly strange for her to be subjected to something that should have impacted her greatly, but strangely didn’t.

“Good riddance that he left,” Michael stated, angrily muttering his words as he looked away again.

She was saved from further argument when a faint ringing sound was heard. It took her a moment to realize that it was coming from the interrogation viewing room. Michael was coming to that realization as well.

Giving her brother a puzzled glance, she heard him say, “I didn’t give any of my contacts the direct numbers to call in. I only left instructions for them to contact the operators with a specific set of phrases that Chief Thompson told me to use.”

“Odd,” she couldn’t help but mutter as she got up.

As soon as she stepped out into the hall, the ringing stopped. Yet, before she could return, the telephone rang again. This time, Michael got up and together, they approached the room.

Entering it, Peggy could see nothing out of the ordinary. The only oddity was the shrill ring of the phone – which Michael picked up. He didn’t say a word, but was listening carefully. A second later, he extended the phone to her, shaking his head.

She placed it to her ear, but like Michael, she heard nothing. There was not even the tell tale scratchiness of a connected call. The silence across the line was eerie.

Hanging up, she shrugged at Michael, who gave her an equally puzzled look. Just as the two of them were about to exit the room, the phone rang again. Peggy dove for it and picked it up, pressing it to her ear.

It was still silent across the line.

Hanging up, she stared at the phone, but it didn’t ring again. “I’ll head to the first floor to see what pranks the women may be engaged in,” Peggy said.

“I’ll remain here,” Michael stated, nodding. “Anything you want me to attempt to say, if it happens again?”

Peggy silently shook her head. She wasn’t sure what was going on, but she was fairly certain that the rings were unrelated to whomever Michael had contacted. The puzzlement in his eyes were genuine – they had depth to it.

Leaving, she half-hoped that the phone would ring, but it didn’t. Continuing on, Peggy made her way to the elevators and down to the first floor. Exiting, she saw that the night shift operators were at their stations—

There was someone sitting at Rose’s station.

The woman – identified as so strictly because of how she dressed – was sitting with her back towards Peggy. Her blonde hair was done up, and pinned elegantly to her head, and the head phones seemed not to affect the styling. The outfit she wore looked somewhat familiar – that was, until Peggy got within two feet of her and realized that the woman was wearing one of _her_ outfits that she had left in Steve’s room at the facility—

“I see you’ve gotten my message, Agent Carter,” Natasha Romanov spoke up, turning her head ever so slightly to look up at her.

“Agent Romanov,” Peggy said, standing next to Rose’s station, but kept her voice low. “Interesting choice of clothing—”

“I’ll dry clean it before I return it,” Natasha said, smiling.

“Thank you,” she answered.

“Updates,” was all Natasha said after a moment, getting down to business.

Peggy saw her discreetly slide two pieces of paper out from underneath the area code and switchboard guidance procedure that Rose rarely used. It only remained on her friend’s station because everyone else knew to find it there. Rose kept her station extremely impeccable and clean.

She took the pieces of paper and discreetly flipped them over. The first was a sketch of a young woman – drawn by Steve, she could tell. Quickly memorizing the features as best as she could, she slid that one back to Natasha, who took it and discreetly pocketed it.

The second was… unexpected. Peggy quickly read over the bulleted notes before glancing over at Natasha in surprise. The woman said nothing, and yet, Peggy still felt a chill wrap around her stomach.

The people that she had discreetly tasked to search into the RF spikes had not completed their analyses yet. One of the delays was that she did not want Chief Thompson to get word of it. Rumors and the like spread through Headquarters too easily; Michael would easily get wind of it. The other was the fact that there were a lot of lines – secured and unsecured – to go through.

“Tell them to be careful, please,” she said.

“I will,” Natasha answered, nodding once, as she took the paper and tucked that away as well.

Without another word to Steve’s friend, Peggy left. She only had the short elevator ride up and the equally short walk down the hall to the interrogation viewing room to collect her thoughts. HYDRA had their secret weapons – fantastical weapons harnessed through the Tesseract. But the Soviets – no, Imperial Russia and the Soviet Union – their secret weapons were _people_.

The thought chilled her; the Black Widows, the Wolf Spider, and the Winter Soldier.

Dottie Underwood – the latest of the Widows to defect to the US. Vera Romanova – the first of the Widows to defect. Natasha Romanov – the last of the Widows and the only one in Steve’s timeline to successfully defect. And now, the Natasha Alianovna Romanova of this timeline was here in New York City – under the alias of Natalie Barnes Proctor.

Michael, her brother, the only subject – thus far she knew – of the Wolf Spider project. He had all the skills of an extremely competent espionage agent even before he had been captured. Enough that he had deceived not only her, but everyone else – especially Bucky.

And Bucky – James Barnes, the Winter Soldier. From what little she knew, it seemed that he was supposed to have been the Soviet’s greatest asset and weapon in this Cold War. The perfect soldier. Steve had snatched that from them. Yet…

She really did not know James ‘Bucky’ Barnes at all. But she had to remind herself that after everything, even during the war, Steve trusted Bucky. Trusted, cared, loved, and saved him. And in turn, Bucky protected Steve – on and off the field. And that Peggy herself had relied on that trust, the truest of friendships between Steve and Bucky.

Despite it all, they were just as determined as she was to find proof to clear Michael.

It was so much easier to fight against machine weapons, an inanimate object. With people, there were so many factors to take in – trust, mistrust, truth, falsities and lies—

Taking a deep breath, she opened the door to the room. Michael was still sitting at the table, glaring at the phone. In the interim, it looked like he had taken some notes to organize his thoughts and of what he and others knew about the last time they had seen David.

“Faulty wiring,” Peggy said, as he looked up. She went over to the phone and removed it from the cradle. Leaving it on the desk, she continued to say, “Electricians won’t be able to get to it until tomorrow morning – earliest. The snow and other house calls have their attention.”

“Guess we can’t use this room anymore, for now,” Michael said, closing his folder of notes and getting up.

“Guess we can’t,” she agreed.

~~~

_Meanwhile…_

It wasn’t so much an open sign of unease that caused him to pause as he approached the apartment buildings, but more of a gut feeling crawling within his stomach. Bucky had dropped into the alleyway that ran parallel to the south side of the building. Yet, even with little to no souls on the snow-covered roads, the neighborhood was too eerily quiet.

_You are a winter soldier who is ever vigilant in his defense of life and liberty._

Taking his pistol out, the Winter Soldier carefully but quickly approached the front entrance. Entering the building, he could not hear anything out of the ordinary. Quickly ascending to the floor where his family lived, he exited and sighted down the hall.

There were still nothing, but as the Winter Soldier crept down the hall, he thought he heard the faintest of strange noises – a growl. It was not human, and certainly did not sound like an animal – definitely not a dog – either. Worse yet, as he stopped in front of the target’s apartment, the sounds were coming from there.

It was clear that whatever was fiercely growling behind the door was also enormous, and knew that he was there. Which meant his element of surprise was gone—

The Winter Soldier fired – twice.

Even before the whimper of the beast died, the Winter Soldier kicked the door in – only to have the shadow of what looked like a rabid wolf fade. It was quickly replaced by several other formless grey shadows with red and yellow eyes that charged at him.

He fired at those as well, just as their forms started to take on the shape of wolves. They all disappeared, as he heard a woman scream in pain. That was swiftly followed by a woman’s cry for help. At nearly the same time, he heard the woman’s husband shout to stop their daughter from attacking.

Just as he raced past the kitchen and into the narrow hall, he turned his pistol to the side. The target – Natalie – had been thrown back by the enemy Black Widow, ineffective in her attempt to strike and take down the enemy Widow. The Winter Soldier caught her and immediately shoved her behind him.

At nearly the same time, he brought up his gun again and fired at the remaining shadowed wolves snapping at the woman and her husband. The two had managed to keep the wolves at bay with a baseball bat. All three went down with a whimper and puffs of smoke, eliciting cries of pain from the enemy Widow.

The Winter Soldier didn’t even need to charge – he directly met the attacking Widow head on, blocking her first strike with his metal arm. The dull clang of vibranium sword meeting sleeved vibranium arm rang for a moment, surprising the Widow.

He took advantage of that momentary shock, and latched onto the sword with his metal hand. He then roughly twisted the sword out of the Widow’s hand, hearing bones crack with the sheer force of him ripping the sword away. But the volume of the Widow’s scream didn’t even become high enough as he then emptied the remaining bullets in his clip into her.

Two into the chest – and two into the head for good measure.

Silence fell, as the dead Widow collapsed onto the ground. The Winter Soldier discarded the sword to the side. He also ripped the sleeve of the clothing that covered his metal arm off. It was useless and impeded his movements now. He silently and swiftly ejected the empty clip, and filled it with the second one he carried, before holstering the gun.

“Bucky…”

At once, Bucky took a deep breath, snapping out of the Winter Soldier persona. He blinked as his eyes immediately riveted to Becca and her husband. Both were staring at him with trepidation and fear.

“Are all of you all right?” he asked, pushing aside the sudden despair at what he had subjected his sister to.

The entire apartment had been wrecked in the fight that his sister, her husband, and their adopted daughter had put up against the enemy Widow. Smashed objects, furniture, frames, and even door jambs littered the area. Young Natalie was looking at him oddly, but there was no hostility in her eyes.

“Y-yes,” Becca whispered, trembling.

“Come on,” he said, going over to help his brother-in-law and sister through the debris. “I’m going to get all of you the safety.”

As he gingerly made his way back down the hall, leading Becca and her husband, he saw Natalie pick up the discarded sword. Through the smashed down door, he could hear the rising clamor of curious neighbors and the like begin to grow. She was standing over the dead body of the Widow—

“< _Natalia._ >” he called out to her in Russian, tone cautious and careful. “< _Please give me the sword._ >”

The teenager looked up at him, eyes unreadable, but again, with no hostility—

“Oh, God!” the exclamation from Samantha was heard at the entrance to the apartment. “Becca—”

“Don’t enter, Sammie!” he called out sharply, at the same time he took the sword away from the teenager. “They’re fine. I’m bringing them out.”

“Bucky?” Agnes’ surprised tone came from near the entrance as well.

“< _There’s blood on your face._ >” Natalie’s soft voice startled him for a moment.

Bucky barely reacted in time to shy away from her touch – her reach up to wipe the blood spots that shooting the enemy Widow had left behind. Disappointment flashed across her eyes, but she dropped her hand.

Old memories or not, he knew that he had to get some answers from Natasha once he made sure his family was safe. The sudden lack of hostility towards him from her teenaged counterpart in this timeline was a little unnerving.

With a firm hand on the teenager’s shoulder, Bucky turned her around and guided his sister and the others out of the wrecked apartment. As expected, Samantha and Agnes were peeking into the apartment. To his surprise, Samantha’s betrothed was also with them – he wasn’t really sure what to make of that.

“Bucky…” Samantha’s whisper of his name half in surprise and horror made his stomach churn.

“Have any of the neighbors called for emergency services yet?” Bucky asked.

“No… yes,” Agnes answered, looking just as shocked as her sister.

Bucky mentally bit off a curse he wanted to unleash. It would take time for the police to get here, and even longer for the SSR as well, but there was nothing he could do about curious neighbors.

“Natasha,” he spoke up, hoping that Natasha was listening somewhere and was done with her errand of ferrying information.

“James,” her familiar husky voice answered, as she appeared in what was left of the corner of the kitchen.

Ignoring the yelps from the others, Bucky thrust the handle of the sword at her. “One dead from hunting. They know she was here, and I’m betting they’re sending more soon. I need you to take your counterpart to safety. I have to get my family to safety.”

“Understood,” she simply stated, and took the sword from him.

Before he could stop her, she activated it. Yet, instead of the rabid shadowed half-formed wolves with sickening yellow eyes, a brilliantly white wolf with blindingly ice-blue eyes appeared.

“The hell—” he began.

“Fragmented memories is the theory Tony and I tossed around with,” Natasha said.

The white wolf tilted its head up, curiously looking at all of them. It sat on the debris-covered ground, docile like a house-trained dog.

“We think these were derived from Asgardian blades, since they look similar to the blades that the Asgardians were using in the battle. But possibly used as familiar messengers. The white wolf appearing proves that theory, since I don’t have fragmented memories like you or the other Widows,” Natasha explained.

“Tampered memories,” Bucky stated.

Natasha nodded in agreement. Not a moment later, the wolf suddenly bounded away, slipping through the walls as if it were a ghost. “I’ve sent it to Brooklyn to let the others knows.”

“Send it to the safe house as well,” he ordered. “They may need to evacuate, if we’re compromised to this extent.”

“Will do,” she answered, before crouching down in front of her counterpart. “< _Hello._ _My name is Natalia, the same as yours_ _._ >” she spoke in Russian. “< _James asked me to get you to safety. He’s not Aloysha, but because he’s a good friend of mine, I want to do that for him. Will you come with me please?_ >”

To his relief and slight surprise, the teenager nodded. But similar to Dottie’s reaction towards Natasha, the teenager seemed to keep a slight distance between herself and Natasha. It was as if both could sense that Natasha wasn’t entirely… human.

But, neither Natasha or the teenager got a few steps down the hall when a few screams echoed up and down. Bucky raced out, just as doors to other apartments full of curious neighbors slammed shut.

At the right end of the hall, were ten nearly-formless shadows – with sickly yellow and red eyes. Of the other end, blocking his family’s escape route to the emergency stairwell was another enemy Black Widow wielding another of the strange swords.

Bucky didn’t even need the affirmation words anymore as he slipped into the Winter Soldier persona and took his pistol out. Nine vibranium-coated bullets, ten wolves – possibly more waiting out in the streets – civilians to protect, and a family to evacuate.

He had faced worse odds.

“Widow, clear an opening through her,” the Winter Soldier growled. “I’ve got the wolves.”

~~~

A white wolf appearing in the middle of the facility’s floor was cause enough for the 107th – already on alert – to be twitchy. Yet, because he, Steve, along with Howard, Tony, Jarvis, and Sousa were there, those stationed on guard for the night stayed their fingers over their triggers.

“What the—” Sousa began.

The wolf didn’t so much say a word, and merely wrapped itself around Steve’s legs like an affectionate cat. Except that there was no such affection in the action. Steve could strangely feel the tension, panic, and fear permeating through the wolf – whatever it was.

It made his danger sense spike, and he realized that whatever this was – it must have come from Natasha. Only she was able to embed the clear memory – the reminder of the searing kiss they had shared when escaping from HYDRA in 2014 – within the avalanche of emotions he was feeling from the wolf.

Someone was attacking her position – wherever she was, and there was a good chance that the facility would be under attack soon enough.

“Initiate full lock down,” he ordered, as Mjolnir suddenly flew into his hand.

He tapped the device on his wrist – his full vibranium armor bled up quickly to cover him, as he said, “Get that shield up, Tony. We’re about to be under attack. I’m headed topside.”

“Got it, Cap,” Tony stated.

Because they were stretched thin on manpower, due to agents being down at the hotel when David had been ‘kidnapped’, and the snowstorm that prevented a few of the 107th from being rotated off duty, Tony remained ‘active’. Bruce was the one maintaining the fullness of the barrier for the moment, but Natasha had confirmed that Bruce was able to handle it. The Reality Stone was sufficiently sated enough from all of the memories it had been fed these past few months.

“We’ll follow you, Cap,” DumDum – on duty tonight – stated.

“No,” Steve said, snatching his shield up as well, and slotting it onto this back as he followed the white wolf up the stairs. “Stay and defend. We don’t know what the threat is, yet.”

The 107th members looked a little put off by the denial to move into action, but it was Sousa who stated, “Copy that, Captain. Good hunting.”

Steve nodded, and followed the wolf up and out of the facility. He could hear the hum and the locking of the doors behind him. Oddly enough, the wolf paused for a moment and wrapped itself around his legs once – as if reassuring him that his friends within the facility would be all right.

“Show me where they are,” he said to the wolf.

At once, the wolf raced off. Steve was hard pressed to follow – even with his super-soldier serum allowing him to run through the snow drifts and snow-covered sidewalks with not too much hindrance. The wolf suddenly turned into an alleyway and bounded up an emergency stairwell.

Steve followed, climbing as quickly as he could. Up on the rooftops, the footing was no better than what it had been on the ground, but it did lessen the chance of someone seeing him.

Minutes after he began follow the wolves, he heard the faint echoes of gunfire. There was also the faint growls and yowls of what sounded like wild animals. The lights around the area were also ‘dimmed’ for the lack of a better term.

He remembered Peggy telling him about the conditions that the SSR had faced when the Widows attacked with their fantastical creatures. Dimming lights, muffled sounds – there was no doubt about it, someone had deployed the enemy Widows.

Worse yet, he realized that the direction he was heading towards was to Bucky’s family’s apartment building.

Tightening his grip around Mjolnir, Steve pushed the worst-case scenario out of this thoughts. The direction was towards the apartment building, and he knew that Bucky was going to retrieve Natasha’s counterpart here, but—

Steve didn’t know how exactly Mjolnir’s powers were supposed to be wielded or controlled. All he knew was that when he needed it, both the hammer and the lightning it summoned did so. As soon as he crested the lip of the building he was traversing across – he took in the scene on the streets below.

The ocean of grey shadows, dimly lit up by the street lamps, flooded the street below him. He could barely see the flash of red hair from Natasha – fighting – as the white wolf bounded back to her. Bucky was somewhere in there, fighting the creatures. Crowded in the center were Bucky’s family, though Steve did see someone within the encircled family fighting tooth and nail.

A burst of affirmation and warmth echoed in this thoughts – Bruce, surprisingly reticent and quiet for a long while, was bolstering the shielding between the stones and the wielding of Mjolnir. Steve was determined not to succumb, or inject himself with a lethal dose of radiation this time.

Bolts of white-blue crackled, forking as they leapt from hammer to uniform, splaying and crawling in and around his arm. Steve raised his arm high, feeling the hair on the back of his neck stand up for just a moment, before the explosive crackle of thunder, accompanied by the blinding flash of lighting struck the ground.

The grey mist was blown back by the force of the strike.

Steve immediately leapt down, landing and tucking himself into a roll as he hit the ground. Whipping the shield off of his back, he sent it soaring in an arc. At nearly the same time, he threw Mjolnir with all of his might in the opposite arc – towards the staggered cluster that Bucky was fighting against.

Stunned, the creatures and their handlers quickly regrouped to stand before them. But they were directly in the way that Steve was hoping to make an opening through. A few peripheral creatures were still encircling them, jaws snapping at Bucky’s family. If the Barnes family were to escape down the street – they would eventually hit a dead end.

“Steve,” Bucky’s succinct greeting – cold in tone as was his Winter Soldier persona – rumbled from his left side.

Steve saw him step up, holding the shield in his right hand. Bucky’s sniper rifle was still slung across his back – close quarter combat was not ideal for sniping.

“Winter Soldier,” Steve greeted just as solemnly.

“Always knew that those days spent in the USO gave you pointers on how to showboat your entrance, Steve,” Natasha quipped, coming up to stand on his right. The white wolf was at Natasha’s side, and she was holding the unusual sword in a guard position.

“Black Widow,” he acknowledged.

Mjolnir came back to Steve’s outstretched hand, as he heard the strangled, disbelieving cry of his name from Becca, and a couple of surprised whispers from Bucky’s other sisters. He didn’t dare look back. Yet, a young girl – the teenager he had sketched – had also stepped up to stand next to Natasha.

“< _Natalia, fall back and protect your family._ >” Bucky suddenly ordered in Russian before Steve could say a word about the teenager.

Surprisingly, the girl did as Bucky ordered – even as coldly as he had done so while wrapped within the Winter Soldier persona. Steve tightened his grip on Mjolnir – as long lived as Natasha was, this was also supposed to be a new lease on life for her. And this mess with the Wolf Spider and Infinity Stones had now dragged innocents and civilians into the conflict.

“I count eight total. They keep respawning the wolves, but its drawing a lot of blood from them,” Natasha stated.

“Not fast enough,” Bucky growled.

“Then let’s force the issue,” Steve stated, as he felt Mjolnir respond to his want to summon lightning again.

The second the bolt crashed into the nine enemy Widows and their creatures, Steve threw Mjolnir with all of his might and charged. To his left and right, Bucky and Natasha did as well, and seconds later, he was enveloped in the cloud of grey.

Sharp claws and teeth tried to sink into him, but his pur-vibranium armor was strong enough to deflect. Steve kicked and punched, fists connecting with jagged fur and spikes. Their howls of pain shook his bones.

Mjolnir flew back into his hand as he batted the hammer around, spinning and whirling this way and that. All the while, he advanced one step at a time, towards where his instincts were telling him that an enemy Widow was.

Seconds later, his instincts were correct as the Widow leapt up and at him. Her sword clanged against his armor as he stepped back – the edge of it scraping down. Steve brought Mjolnir up and lunged forward, swinging the hammer at her.

She blocked it. As lightning forked from the hammer and onto the sword and her arms, she cried out in pain. As soon as she dropped the sword, Steve pressed his advantage and swung Mjolnir, breaking both of her arms.

He immediately picked up the sword as he holstered Mjolnir at his side. He could feel Bruce’s bolstered shield fading – and knew that he had to be careful not to summon anymore lightning.

Pressing the button, a flare of pain, similar to that of what he remembered his broken shield biting into his arm during the second battle against Thanos, shot up his arm. Yet, a white wolf with those ice-blue eyes appeared next to him.

It reacted a moment later, either driven by pure instinct or something else, and leapt onto the fallen Widow. Steve couldn’t stop the wolf, as it tore the Widow’s throat apart, spraying blood everywhere.

The wolf didn’t stop there, and bounded away from its kill, throwing itself into a grey cloud. Steve heard another scream, and the cloud disappeared, only to reveal another enemy Widow being torn apart by the white wolf—

“Drop the sword, Steve!”

Natasha’s shout snapped Steve out of his fugue. He immediately let go; the vibranium sword dully clattering to the snow-covered ground. The wolf disappeared, but it was too late for the enemy Widow. Not a few seconds later, the grey mists that had surrounded them, along with the muffled sounds and dimmed lights returned to normal.

All eight enemy Black Widows were dead.

“You’re not conditioned to wield the swords, Steve,” Natasha spoke up.

Steve glanced over to see that she was still holding her sword, and her white wolf was sitting obediently by her feet on her right. She picked up the sword he had dropped, and activated that as well. Another white wolf appeared, identical to the first, and sat on her left.

“Conditioned?” Steve questioned.

“It takes a certain disposition to control it… or them,” Bucky’s voice, no longer freezing cold, spoke from his left.

Steve turned to see his best friend approaching with a sword in his right hand. His left carried the shield. Yet, there were quite a few nearly formless grey creatures with red and yellow eyes that looked slightly like wolves, surrounding him.

“You don’t have that,” Bucky quietly stated, handing him the shield.

If Bucky was going to say anymore, he didn’t get to, as Steve heard the shuffling approach of the rest of Bucky’s family. Except for Natasha’s counterpart, the rest of the Barnes family were in various states of shock.

Guilt flooded Steve – he hadn’t want to traumatize them.

“Why is… what…” Becca began, looking at him, then towards the formless mass of grey surrounding Bucky, before her eyes strayed to Natasha.

“I’m sorry, Becca—” Steve began, knowing that he needed to make things right.

It was the dual alert poses of Natasha’s wolves perking up that made the rest of them look towards the dead end of the street. Not a split second later, the wolves bounded forward, curiously exploring and scouting the approaching people.

The approaching people weren’t a threat though, as the lights around the streets became brighter. Steve saw Bucky’s mother – as stately and haughtily elegant as she now held herself – along with Dottie, and David – looking slightly apprehensive – approaching.

“James. Steven,” Vera simply stated, before her eyes strayed to the swords that Natasha and Bucky were holding. “Swords of the Valkyries,” Steve heard her whisper in surprise. “I haven’t seen those since the beginning of the Great War…”

The formless grey mist of red and yellow eyed wolves around Bucky suddenly disappeared as Steve saw him deactivate and hand the sword over to Dottie. Dottie took it, but didn’t activate the sword, just yet. Natasha deactivated one of hers and gave it to Bucky’s mother, who gave her a puzzled look before accepting the sword.

Yet, when Vera activated her sword, a white wolf with bright blue eyes appeared. But it as Bucky’s blunt statement of, “I have our six,” followed by him removing his sniper rifle and holding it at guard, drew their attention away.

“Nat, right flank,” Steve ordered, as Bucky made his way to the rear of the group. “Dottie, left. I have point. The rest of you, stay in the center. Nat, send word to Brooklyn and HQ that we have civilians who need shelter, incoming. We’re also going to need a damage control team here ASAP.”

“Copy,” Natasha’s simple answer was enough, as her wolf surged ahead.

Further behind them, Steve heard Bucky pick up the rest of the swords, handing them to David with the murmured advice to not activate any of them. The engineer acknowledged the order, though that didn’t stop him from giving a couple of experimental swings of the swords he carried.

Steve could still hear the slightly confused murmurs from Bucky’s family, as they began their hurried journey through the snow-covered streets and sidewalks to the Brooklyn facility. It was the whispered order of silence from Vera that caused the whispers to die.

The cold minutes of the night passed as they put on a good pace. As much as Steve wanted to push aside the fact that too many people – possibly civilians huddled in fright in their apartments – had seen him, he didn’t. This was all eventually going to have to come out, though not in the way that he wanted it to.

Civilians had been caught up in this shadow war – civilians that should never have gotten involved. Enlisting Dottie and then Bucky’s mother’s help was already pushing the edge of trust, but now…

It was all because he, along with Peggy and Bucky – they wanted – hoped – to find conclusive proof of evidence that Michael was not the Wolf Spider. Steve had a feeling that it backfired on them—

“Steve, Brooklyn is under attack—” Natasha suddenly stated.

But she was swiftly cut off with the sudden report of five shots – bunched together so fast that it sounded almost more like a peppered cannonade than anything else. Steve barely felt the breeze of the bullets from Bucky’s sniper rifle pass close to him.

But he did see and hear the impact of those bullets with the sudden illumination of the lights down the street brightening. In the distance and up the street, five silhouettes collapsed. The grey mist that had nearly blended them into the wind-whipped snow flying around, disappeared.

“… lured out, with my wolf,” Steve heard Natasha murmur, as he glanced back and looked up at the rooftop of the nearest building. He was not the only one to attempt to see where the sniper shots had come from.

It was only movement from near a water tower, and the fact that Steve saw the flash of silver from Bucky’s arm being reflected by the street lights, that told him where his best friend had been positioned. He saw Bucky jump down from the rooftop – Agnes’ half-formed yelp of fear accompanying it – landing on the snow-covered ground without injury. Bucky’s sniper rifle was once again, slung across his back.

Steve took it as a sign that all immediate threats – both to them and the civilians, and the Brooklyn facility – had been eliminated.

“Rooftop invasion on Brooklyn. Eight, plus two at the apartment, and five here. There’s one missing,” Bucky stated.

“My wolf is already on the way to Headquarters,” Natasha answered.

“They’re safer here, Bucky,” Steve began, catching Bucky’s brief glance over at his family. “But it’s your choice—”

“Don’t wanna read them into the operation, not unless we have to,” Bucky answered, nodding in agreement. “They can stay in the halls, the lockers area for now. If you’re okay with that, Steve.”

“Nat?” Steve asked, turning his attention briefly onto her.

“Nothing to suggest any attacks on HQ. Our target is still there, and Agent Carter has been alerted to the facility going into lock down again,” Natasha answered after a few seconds, before handing him the sword. “I’ll let Tony know to deactivate what’s left of the defense in the front.”

Steve took the sword and a moment later, Natasha disappeared. A burst of murmurs followed it. Steve ignored it, and nodded for Bucky to take point.

They began to approach the facility again. He fell back to talk to Vera, hoping that a more calming force within the Barnes family would be the best to pass along the message.

“Interestinglife you’re living now, Steven,” Vera murmured.

“Been like this since we both joined up, ma’am,” he answered. “I’m going to need you to keep Becca and the others calm until we can find all of you safer shelter. We’re bringing you into the facility, but I’m going to have to ask that none of you wander from where we’ll be placing you. I’ll try to get you a direct connection to Philips to discuss you and your family’s options, but—”

“Your primary duties and concern, and my son’s are to your current operation and the attacks that have just happened,” Vera finished up, nodding.

“I understand, Steven,” she said after a moment. “If my son has not already told you, I was a former spy myself. The mission environment was different then, but the mindset still the same.My time of service cannot be compared to the fantastical happenings that you and my son seemed to be engaged in, but I understand all the same. Do not worry, Steven, I will see to my family.”

“Thank you,” he said, grateful that he didn’t need to elaborate.

When Natasha gave the all clear, Steve led them in. It looked like a tornado had gone through the entire facility – walls were peppered with bullets, upturned chairs and furniture turned into blockades, and debris were everywhere. The door that led down into the area where the time-jump device was, was intact.

DumDum’s surprised exclamation at the appearance of the Barnes family, and Bucky, was short-lived. The bowler-hat wearing officer looked like he had sustained some scratches, but didn’t look as injured as the others of the 107th, or Sousa.

Steve merely had to gesture to Vera that she and the others were to situate themselves near the lockers. It was away from the worst of the debris left from the fighting—

“Where are your medical kits, Steven?” Vera asked. “Allow us to render medical assistance to your people before emergency services arrive.”

“Lockers,” Steve answered.

He also realized that despite the greater number of enemy Widows that had attacked the Barnes family, none had been injured. All the Widows’ wolves had done was lunge and threaten them. They only attacked him, along with Bucky, and Natasha.

The wolves had also attacked the clear and present danger that the 107th presented—

“DumDum, please show Vera where the supplies are. Bucky, see to your family,” Steve ordered. “Nat—”

“Guard duty,” Natasha finished up, nodding in acknowledgment.

“Steve—” Bucky began, protesting.

“Feint,” Steve called, unhooking his shield and placed it near the entrance, before heading deeper into the facility. “They may have been after something here.”

He keyed in the alpha-numeric code that Tony had specifically told him about to set the facility at partial lock down and deactivate the charges that were built in and around the inner area. Pulling the door open, he entered and closed it tightly behind him. Re-engaging the locks, he quickly made his way down to the ground.

There was a shimmering shield around the time-jump device – and it looked to be intact.

As impressed as Steve was that what Howard and Tony had been furiously working on for the better part of the past few days was active, he put it to the side. The device was still there, but considering that Natasha’s wolf-familiar was able to easily slip in and out of places—

“The hell is going on up there, Steve?” Howard’s exclamation was expected.

“I need an inventory of everything that we have stored here,” Steve stated, placing Mjolnir on the table. “Including Pym Particles, the Tesseract, stages of the serum you’ve been working on Howard, packets of what’s left of my blood – everything.”

“Tall order, but good thing we’ve been keeping logs—” Howard began.

Jarvis was already rising from the other end of the table. The butler and bodyguard brought a rather hefty stack of paper with him.

“Feint, Cap?” Tony questioned.

“Could be,” Steve answered, nodding. “One of the Widows is unaccounted for. That white wolf that I followed was from Nat.”

“Shit, and the grey mists are the fragmented wolves – fragmented memories,” Tony stated. “Thought it was suspicious when a few of those creatures slipped in here, took one look at us and the shield, and then left.”

“None attacked?” Steve questioned, surprised.

“Nope,” Tony answered. “I did dust one or two, just to see what powers being dead gave me—”

“Steve, we’ve got a problem,” Natasha’s sudden appearance and words sent a feeling of dread shooting through Steve. “You still got bio sensors scanners working in that tin can, Tony?”

“Yeah,” Tony answered.

Steve followed the two up the stairs, after ordering Howard and Jarvis to ensure that everything within the ground floor was accounted for. The fact that the Widows’ rabid wolves had just ‘scouted’ the area without attacking Howard or Jarvis made him uneasy.

Exiting the heart of the facility, Natasha immediately pointed to DumDum – who now looked incredibly pale. In fact, each injured member of the 107th, and even Sousa himself, looked worse than what Steve remembered them to look like only minutes ago.

“Shit. Get the hell away from them – all of you!” Tony unexpectedly bit out, just as he panned the palm of his metal-gloved hand with the scanner over DumDum.

Steve looked down the hall in alarm, as he caught Bucky’s wide eyes on him for a brief moment. Vera and the others had immediately stepped away from those who were injured. Murmurs ran across them – both at the appearance of Tony and his armor, and at what was happening.

“I don’t know what the hell this is, Cap, but my sensors are telling me that its a biological contamination.”

“Biological—you mean, a virus?” Steve asked.

“I don’t know. It could be poison as well,” Tony stated. “Never did fine-tune—”

“Scan Mrs. Barnes and her family, Tony,” Steve ordered. “Bucky as well—“

“My serum can handle it, Steve,” Bucky cut in.

“Humor me,” Steve shot back. Serum or not, if this was a virus, and it was spread through contact or droplets, then everyone in the building – including himself, was already contaminated.

“And me too, Tony,” he followed up after a moment.

Tony did as asked, though there was some concern in his eyes. The one thing he was grateful for at the moment, was the fact that Tony had an excellent poker face. As his friend panned his gloved hand up and down his face, Steve couldn’t tell whether or not Tony’s results found him infected.

It took a long few agonizing minutes before Tony completed his scans. “Virus,” was all Tony stated.

“You have not scanned either yourself or that woman,” Vera stated, gesturing to Natasha.

“We’re dead,” Tony answered. “Can’t carry anything alive if we’re both dead.”

Before those who didn’t know the circumstances behind Natasha and Tony’s appearance and lives could say a word, Tony continued, saying, “That kid—” Tony pointed to Natasha’s counterpart “—and Mrs. Barnes are the only ones who scanned negative. Winter Soldier, I can’t fucking tell with the fucking mess of a super-soldier serum that’s running through him. You, Cap. You’re Typhoid Mary. Asymptomatic.”

“Language, Tony,” Steve softly admonished, before saying, “I thought my serum was supposed to prevent stuff like that.”

“Well yeah. That’s why you’re asymptomatic. We’re dealing with a fast-moving xenobiological virus here—” Tony began.

“Swords of the Valkyries,” Bucky spoke up, anger clear in his tone. “What the hell were they?”

The question was directed solely at Vera, who didn’t seem to be affected by the tone Bucky had used. The haughtiness in Vera’s eyes and stance was gone, but it had not been replaced by humbleness.

“We didn’t know,” Vera answered. “We only knew that they were meant to send messages, and that the wolves formed could be persuaded to attack. Most candidates who tried to wield them couldn’t. They either lost control of their wolves, or produced they grey misted ones – a sign of lost or affected memories.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Steve heard Bucky mutter. “Poking around with advanced things; just like fucking HYDRA and the Tesseract—”

“Where did you find these swords?” Natasha asked, cutting Bucky’s grumbling off.

“Tønsberg,” Vera stated.

“Tønsberg,” Steve repeated, before biting off the curse _he_ desperately wanted to let loose. Yet, he knew that there was a way to get a cure – to force the trade of a cure. The only problem was—

“Steve,” Bucky began, sharply.

Bucky had come to the same conclusion as he had done.

“Buck… it’s the only—” he began.

“Way,” Bucky finished, nodding once, “I know.”

His answer surprised Steve. Yet, there was understanding in Bucky’s eyes – the solidarity of what both of them had gone through. Selfish changes to realities just to give themselves a better future. Now, it was once again, for selfish reasons, but also to prevent a xenobiological pandemic from happening.

“Be careful,” Bucky continued after a moment. “From everything you told us about these Asgardians, I don’t think they’ll go for it.”

“I have to try,” Steve said. He then turned his attention onto Sousa, asking, “Agent Sousa, do I have permission to return the Reality Stone?”

“So long as you bargain hard and bring back a cure, Captain Rogers,” Sousa stated, nodding as best as he could. “Godspeed and good hunting, Cap.”

“Yes, sir,” Steve answered.

Natasha handed him her sword, as both she and Tony immediately disappeared, eliciting more gasps of surprise. He snapped it to the area where his shield was usually hooked at.

Steve turned and made his way back to the heart of the facility—

“Don’t forget about this, Steve,” Bucky’s calling of his name caused Steve to pause before he reached the door.

He turned back to see that his best friend had picked up the shield. Steve shook his head, and typed in the alpha-numeric code to the door.

“Keep it, Bucky,” he said, opening the door. “You’ve more than earned the right to carry that.”

Bucky’s poleaxed expression was the last thing Steve saw before he slipped into the heart of the facility. The door closed behind him, as he then directed Howard to lower the shield and fire up the platform, stating that Sousa had given permission.

Picking Mjolnir back up, Steve climbed up to the platform. At Howard’s gesture of readiness, Steve activated the time-jump armor over himself.

In the next instance, he disappeared.

~*~*~*~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I sincerely apologize for the slight disjointedness of the chapter. I had a very rough 1.5 weeks at real-life work, and struggled to get this chapter finished. Any spelling and/or grammatical mistakes are all mine, as I did not have this chapter beta'ed at all.
> 
> On a related note, the xenobiological virus introduced in this chapter was planned well before the current real-life crisis gripped the world. I had been researching and reading about the 1918 Spanish flu and its influence on the aftermath of WWI, during my research about Imperial Russia during that time period. I decided to introduce the xenobiological virus factor into the story - finding it a interesting driver and bargaining chip for Steve to wield.


	29. The Machination – Part 4 – 2013

**Chapter 24: The Machination – Part 4 – 2013**

“Oh—!”

Steve blinked as the time-jump armor retracted, leaving only the helmet behind – hermetically sealed against his vibranium suit. He didn’t know how the virus was spread, but he would be damned if he spread it among Thor’s family and people. His goal was to negotiate the cure, in exchange for the stone – not spread the virus like Typhoid Mary had done.

He was left staring at beautifully carved sandstone-like interiors. Arched open windows and balconies carrying a soothing breeze brushed past his face. Cathedral ceilings and grandiose murals along walls stretched far and away—

“Queen Frigga,” Steve whispered, eyes finally landing on the woman who stood before him on the dais next to what looked like a divan.

Steve mentally cursed Thor for not having told him that he, Thor, had teleported from his mother’s chambers. It was the last place that Steve had wanted to land in.

Thor had described his mother as a fair beauty, elegant, with a disposition of a stately queen, but had never produced a picture or image of her to show them. Steve had imagined Thor’s mother to look similar to Bucky’s mother – except with blonde hair. He realized that he was not wrong to have imagined the comparison.

Except that Frigga did not seem to carry the haughtiness that Vera Romanova carried about her—

“You… might you be one of Thor’s warrior companions he met in Midgar, and did battle with, recently?” Frigga asked, drawing herself up to her full height.

Steve immediately dashed away his thoughts about the lack of haughtiness from Thor’s mother. No, the comparisons between Vera Romanova and Queen Frigga of Asgard were the same. The only difference was that Steve could feel the _power_ she exuded – magicks, as Thor had told them during his half-drunken briefing about the Reality Stone.

Queen Frigga was dangerous – if provoked.

“Yes, ma’am,” Steve answered. “My name is Steve Rogers. Honestly, I apologize for my intrusion into your private chambers—”

“Has my son from the future fallen?” Frigga interrupted.

Steve noticed that her eyes had strayed to Mjolnir by his side. “Um, no, ma’am,” he said, hastily removing the hammer from his belt and placed it on the nearest table. “No,” he repeated, shaking his head slightly.

Yet, she didn’t seem to be convinced. Steve noticed her eyes had strayed from the hammer and back to him. While not roaming in a manner that made him feel embarrassed or uncomfortable, her eyes had narrowed perceptibly.

“You wield Mjolnir with familiarity,” she said after a moment.

“Um—” he began.

“Yet, you do not reveal yourself to me, Warrior Rogers,” she continued, as if she had not heard him.

There wasn’t a dangerous edge to her tone, but her words and the way she said them made Steve’s skin prickle. There was some power, some strange compulsion behind her words—

“Queen Frigga!” The guards who had chased Rocket clattered into the chambers, halberds and swords bared and ready to attack.

“Hold!” Frigga commanded, holding a hand up to prevent the guards from approaching. They stopped, though they were clearly nervous as to who the intruder in their Queen’s chambers was.

She had also taken a step forward, returning her attention to Steve. “Reveal yourself, Warrior Rogers. I do not judge based on appearances, and wish to speak plainly as to why you are here.”

“Thor, my timeline’s Thor, is alive, ma’am,” Steve began, trying to keep the sudden nervousness he felt from showing or coloring his tone.

It was clear that the presence of the Reality Stone – or Aether – that had been here in liquid form was causing some unease. Steve had to remember from what Thor told them that no one then knew that the Dark Elves had reawakened. That only Thor and Jane had been told by Odin that the Aether was a powerful weapon.

“He entrusted me to return what was borrowed,” Steve continued. “To ensure that the future here… continued.”

Frigga nodded once, seemingly accepting the vague answer.

There was still a sharp look in her eyes, but with all things considered, Steve would not have put it past Thor’s mother to know that to speak of the future was dangerous. Of what he read about Norse mythology after Thor had appeared on Earth, the goddess Frigg was associated with foresight and wisdom.

“And of you yourself, Warrior Rogers?”

Steve remained silent for a few moments. Perhaps he needn’t force his way into a negotiation. Perhaps if he spoke plainly to Thor’s mother, it would be enough. Yet, as he glanced at the guards who still stood at the ready, that thought seemed less likely.

Nevertheless, it was as he told Bucky – he had to try.

Before he could explain, there was a clatter at the door before Thor’s booming voice was heard saying, “Mother, what has happened—”

Thor’s entrance into Frigga’s chambers was cut short as the guards parted ever so slightly to let him through. Steve saw the concern in Thor’s eyes die as they focused on him—

“Captain Rogers,” Thor began, the smile in his eyes and expression short-lived, as it slid straight into confusion. “How—”

Steve deftly took a step away as Thor tried to close the distance to embrace him. “Thor,” Steve began. The solemn stating of his friend’s name and the step back was enough to abort Thor’s actions.

“A friend of yours,” Frigga supplied, surprising Steve, “from Midgar. But not the Midgar you know of.”

“Not the Midgar I know?” Thor asked, giving both Frigga and Steve a puzzled look.

“I’m returning something that was borrowed,” Steve stated. “And to also hopefully find some mercy and help from you and your people, Thor and Queen Frigga. I, along with my friends have been infected with something that Earth has never seen before.”

He reached across his back and snapped the sword off. The guards shifted uneasily, but nothing from Frigga or Thor told them to attack. Steve slowly brought the sword forward, presenting it by the flat of the blade up. He saw Thor’s eyes narrow ever so slightly, while Frigga’s eyes and expression remained unreadable.

“We don’t know what it is, but it came from these kinds of swords that we believe that you and your people left behind,” Steve continued. “It was found where the Tesseract had been kept.”

The silence that fell upon the chambers was eerie. It was only the slight shifting movements of the guards, and the faint noise of other happenings in the fortress-city that filled it.

“I do not recognize the sword—” Thor began, taking a step forward.

Frigga immediately held out an arm to prevent her son from closing the distance. Her expression still had not changed, her eyes told Steve nothing, but the action was clear. Steve was a threat.

The guards responded appropriately.

“Mother—” Thor began, glancing to either side of them, appalled. “Captain Rogers is a friend, the people of Midgar—”

“We called the swords, Swords of the Valkyries,” Steve stated. “What is Earth dealing with, ma’am?”

“They are not the weapons used by the Valkyries,” Frigga stated, before her eyes strayed to the hammer. “Do not summon Mjolnir, Thor. It has been tainted by this traveler.”

“What—” Thor began, baffled.

If ever Thor was a rebellious child when he had been growing up, Steve caught a glimpse of the defiance in his eyes. The disbelief and shoved-aside wisdom of Queen Frigga – all because Thor felt more responsibility and loyalty to protect Earth since Loki’s attack.

All because he, one of Thor’s friends, was here.

Steve was not going to let Thor throw away the caution brought upon by Frigga. A split second after Thor moved to summon Mjolnir, Steve reached out with his right hand as well, dropping the hilt of the sword into his left.

Mjolnir hung in the air between the two of them, the victim of a silent tug-of-war between wills.

A blink of an eye later, it rocketed into Steve’s hand; Thor clearly surprised and shocked that he, Steve, was able to wield Mjolnir. Steve held the hammer in a firm grip, eyes resting on Frigga for a brief moment, who had a most curious expression on her face.

He glanced over towards Thor, and snapped the sword to his back. “I’m not the Captain Rogers you know right now, Thor,” he began.

“I’m from the future, and my friends and I – you – came here to borrow an Infinity Stone. I need a cure for whatever ‘toys’ you and your people left behind, because Earth and her people will die without it. In exchange for a cure, I’ll return this stone to you.”

The weight of the Reality Stone landed in his left. Steve held it up, opening so that both Frigga, the guards, and Thor could clearly see the tiny red stone in the palm of his hand.

“The Aether…” Thor said. “How…?”

“I’m not going to put this back into Dr. Foster, Thor,” Steve stated, closing his hand around the stone. He was half-surprised that neither Frigga or the guards had lunged in to grab it from his hands in the split second he had revealed it.

“We needed it, we extracted it, and now I’m returning it,” he continued after a moment.

“In the hopes that what future that has transpired here continues?” Frigga questioned. “Does refusing to return the Aether into Lady Jane constitute a changed future?”

As much as Steve wanted to say that having the Aether in her nearly killed her, he didn’t. Thor and the others had already seen that – Thor had told them during the briefing. And Steve knew that he couldn’t be so arrogant again to tell what happened in Thor’s future from 2013 on wards – or at least as much as he knew from the SHIELD reports he had read about Greenwich and the Alignment.

“Forgive my bluntness, but what you do with the Infinity Stone will be up to you, Queen Frigga,” Steve answered. “All I ask is that you consider the reason why we needed to take this from you in this point in time, in the first place.”

“Mercy,” Frigga stated after a moment, clasping her hands together. “You ask for mercy.”

“And a cure for Earth, ma’am,” Steve answered.

“And if we decide not to take the stone from you – after all, you naming it an Infinity Stone yields the fact that you know what it is and what it is capable of? Then, what will you do, Warrior Rogers?”

“Mother—” Thor began, protesting. Frigga held her hand up; Thor fell silent.

Steve watched the brief exchange with some resignation. Even though the thought of the Asgardians not accepting the stone back had lingered in the back of his mind, he never thought that they would actually invoke it.

Every single entity that had encountered the stones coveted the power the stones provided. Not one had refused its return or stolen state. Asgard already had the Tesseract in their hands. It was now clear to him that another powerful Infinity Stone was nothing to them.

That was the sense that Steve had gotten. The length of time it had taken from the time Jane had been infected with the Aether, to when Thor and Loki had enacted their plan to exorcise the thing out of her, made it seem that way.

However…

“Two stones – the Tesseract and Reality – would only attract danger to your doors. Danger that you are already aware of that – or whom, I should say – is on the move, Queen Frigga,” Steve began. “I don’t have the strength to destroy the Reality Stone. But, give me passage elsewhere, and a cure for Earth, and I will bring the stone elsewhere – far away from Asgard or her people.”

“Danger?” Thor questioned, turning to look at his mother. “ _What_ danger, mother?”

“Danger that lured your brother to serve Thanos,” Frigga answered after a moment. Her eyes remained on Steve, as she continued to say, “Danger that had passed in the future you are from, Warrior Rogers.”

Steve nodded once, though her gaze upon him made him feel like he was under a microscope. If he thought Bucky’s mother was frightening now that he knew what she had been, Thor’s mother was nightmarishly unnerving.

Yet, even that thought was wiped away by the smile that appeared on her face. It was as if brilliant warm star’s light was cast upon him.

“Though you are no wordsmith as Loki is, your heart is true, Captain Rogers. Additionally, my majicks told me that Mjolnir has not been affected by your blight. Yet to protect my son from folly and death, you demonstrated your worthiness of wielding the weapon,” she said, eyes alight with kindness.

Turning to the guards, she then said, “You may leave, but speak not of this to Odin or others until I release you.”

“Yes, my Queen,” the guards stated, retracting their readied stances. A moment later, the guards marched out, their footsteps echoing across the vast halls.

Relief from Thor was palpable, but Steve took a few steps back as Thor tried to approach again. “Thor—” he began.

“I apologize, Captain Rogers,” Thor said, stopping where he was. “I had merely forgotten.”

“Here,” Steve said, placing Mjolnir on another table, before stepping away. A moment later, the hammer flew back into Thor’s hand. Steve watched as his friend flipped the weapon from hand to hand, as if testing the weight of it.

“I suspect that we do not have much time,” Frigga said. “Warrior Rogers, the Soul Forge awaits. And to not cause yet another fuss with Odin, Thor, please follow us. We shall let Lady Jane recover from her ordeal in peace.”

“As you wish, mother,” Thor answered.

Steve followed the two, but kept a fair distance between himself and them. The halls that they traversed through were gorgeous and expansive. Steve just wanted to stop and sketch everything he saw, wishing that he had a camera with him, but he didn’t. Just being her, and walking through Asgard before her fall was enough for him.

Whether it was just the fact that Frigga seemed to want to keep this clandestine, or otherwise, Thor was surprisingly reticent. Steve couldn't help but wonder if there had been something in the words that both he and Frigga had exchanged that caused Thor to behave not what he was used to seeing from the boisterous Asgardian.

Shortly after arriving at the area where Steve could only presume that the ‘Soul Forge’ was situated, Frigga held up a hand for both him and Thor to wait. She entered, but Steve couldn’t hear anything issue out of the chamber – or whatever the place was.

“I believe that it has been at least a thousand of your Earth years since a blight of this magnitude was encountered,” Thor said as the two of them waited. “I was a young boy, and remembered that it was Vanaheim who had been afflicted.”

“Did she or he survive?” Steve asked.

“Vanaheim is one of the realms, Captain Rogers, under the protection of Asgard,” Thor answered, grinning.

“Oh,” Steve said. “Well… the question’s still the same, Thor.”

“They did,” Thor answered, nodding. “I met one of my greatest friends during that time of need. He became one of the Warriors Three that I have served with.”

“Then why the secrecy right now?” Steve couldn’t help but ask, hoping that Thor might have some insight into the strange nature of Frigga’s actions. “I mean, besides the fact that I’m from the future.”

“My father does not wholly approve of my consorting with mortals,” Thor quietly stated, glancing down at Mjolnir for a few seconds. “Lady Jane’s appearance, along with her possession by the Aether—”

“Is no longer of concern,” Frigga spoke up as she exited the chamber. “But your father is correct, Thor. These friends of yours – these mortals of Midgar – are not long for life.”

Steve heard the undercurrent of steel in her tone. Yet, even with her words, he didn’t feel offended by them. But much as Steve wanted to step away from what seemed like a personal argument, he didn’t – he couldn’t. He found himself boxed by Thor and Frigga – between the entrance of the Soul Forge chamber and the expansive halls.

“And yet, they live and fight with as much passion as we do in battles,” Thor answered. “They fight, they search, and they discover new things with wonderment in their eyes. We have lost that, mother. We stagnate with the tales of the glories, of the battles of yore. We have forgotten what it was like to grow. To learn. To live.”

“To die, you mean,” Frigga gently challenged.

“To live,” Thor insisted.

Frigga said nothing in return, but merely gave her son an inscrutable look. Then, she turned her eyes onto Steve, saying, “They are ready for you.”

“Thank you, Queen Frigga,” Steve said, “for your mercy and generosity.”

“And thank you, Warrior Rogers, for accepting the duty,” she answered.

“I shall be accompanying him, mother, when he is ready,” Thor declared, before Steve stepped into the chamber. “Should Lady Jane awaken before I return—”

“I shall inform her of your whereabouts, my son,” Frigga said, nodding once, and then gestured for Steve to enter.

Steve did so – entering a darkened chamber that looked to have several areas carefully partitioned off by transparent, shimmering orange-yellow shields. Steve saw at least three slabs that looked like people were supposed to be lying upon – and could only assume that the Soul Forge was a medical infirmary sort of area.

The Asgardians who worked here numbered only a few, and they all wore matching uniforms. Only one met him directly at the entrance, with the others standing behind the shimmering partitions.

Steve could guess it was for safety and isolation sake that only one met him, while the others in the Soul Forge monitored for contamination breakage. The healer she looked almost as old as Frigga, but with a kindly disposition about her – reminding Steve of his mother.

“I am Eir,” the Asgardian introduced herself, taking care to not stand close to him. “Please place the sword to your left when you lie upon the Forge.”

“Steve. Steve Rogers,” Steve said, and nearly put out his hand in greeting before remembering that it was better for him not to do so – even if he were still wrapped up in his uniform.

If Eir had any opinion on his aborted greeting or the behavior of people from Earth, she didn’t express it. She merely gestured towards the first slab, clearly inviting him to climb up and lay on it.

“May I stay in the same chamber and watch, Eir?” Thor asked.

Steve climbed onto the platform. He unsnapped the sword from his back and placed it to his left, flat parallel to the surface of the platform.

“I wish not to let a friend of mine endure this alone,” Thor continued.

“My prince—” Eir began, looking slightly alarmed as a murmur swept through those within the chamber.

“Thanks for the support. It means a lot to me, but I’ll be fine, Thor,” Steve interrupted, twisting his head back slightly to look at his friend. “My mother was a nurse, sort of like the healers you have here, and told me about what they did to try to mitigate a pandemic that happened the year I was born. It’s better for isolation protocols and risk mitigation that you wait on the other side of those walls.”

“Are you certain you want to face this alone, Captain Rogers?” Thor questioned, still not entirely convinced.

“I didn’t come all the way here just to put any of you at risk, pal,” Steve answered, giving him a reassuring smile, before lying back down.

“Indeed you did not,” Thor reluctantly agreed, and stepped away to join Frigga and the others outside of the isolated area.

Steve turned his attention onto Eir, as the shimmering walls of the isolation chamber closed around the two of them. “If this doesn’t work, Eir, please accept my sincerest apologies for having brought this disease… this blight upon you,” he said.

Eir’s serene countenance didn’t change, but Steve did see her briefly glance down at him. She nodded ever so slightly before saying, “Close your eyes, Warrior Rogers. This may hurt.”

Steve did as he was told, and a moment later, a warmth seemed to begin to grow all along where his body – covered in the armor – touched the platform. It was the sudden murmurs, followed by Thor’s exclamation of “My friends—” that caused Steve to open his eyes again.

Considering that the device was named ‘Soul Forge’, Steve knew that he should have expected at least Natasha to appear. She was the Soul Stone, after all. Nevertheless, Tony and surprisingly, Bruce were also standing around the platform.

Projected before him was what looked like an imprint of 3D vitals – of his body. “Hey—” Steve began.

“Holy… is that a quantum field generator—” Tony excitedly began, examining the platform with a keen eye

“I think it is—” Bruce exclaimed at nearly the same time.

“What in the nine realms—” came Thor’s horrified interruption.

“War, Thor,” Natasha’s clear voice rang above everyone else. “A galaxy-wide war.”

“War—” Thor began. “How—my friends…you are all dead in the future? Every one of you except for Captain Rogers?”

“We lost everything, Thor,” Steve spoke up before Natasha or the others could. “To say anymore—”

“Is to speak of the future in motion,” Frigga finished up. “Yet, only one of you is whole. Intact. The others are fragments, pieces, corruption not of the blight that afflicts you, Captain Rogers. You carry the Soul Stone as well.”

Steve looked over to see that Frigga’s attention was on Natasha. Thankfully, Natasha seemed to have a good grasp on the precarious situation. Both Tony and Bruce had also caught the undercurrent of danger coming from Frigga.

“Will it be a problem?” Steve asked. “If they remain where they are, ma’am?”

Frigga didn’t answer him, and merely looked towards Eir. Steve turned as best as he could – the heat crawling along his back becoming a little more unbearable.

“The Aether has been separated,” Eir stated, moving her hands above the projection of Steve’s body. “Yet, to isolate the Soul will take more time, with regards to two additional… fragments of souls within the whole.”

The healer look down at him, eyes crinkling in slight worry. It was the first sign that Steve got that everything was not as well as the Asgardians had hoped it would be. “His friends must remain outside of the stone for this, and I shall need to put Warrior Rogers to sleep—”

“Uh, no,” Tony surprisingly spoke up. “The radiation alone without us there as barriers will kill Steve—”

“The power that courses through the stones has been isolated,” Eir simply stated as if it were a mundane, everyday thing.

“Wow,” Tony blinked. “You can do that?”

“Then why are you worried about putting Steve to sleep?” Bruce questioned.

Steve felt incredibly touched by his friends’ concerns. Yet, it was Natasha’s furrowed look that made him a little worried. “How invasive is this ‘sleep’?” she suddenly asked. “Are you going to be able to see Steve’s memories or dreams?”

“It is a state between the two,” Eir answered, before focusing her attention onto Frigga. “My Queen, there appears to be some concern as to the… delicate nature of Warrior Rogers’ dreams.”

“As there should be,” Thor rumbled from where he stood. “Can this procedure be done without inducing such a sleep upon Captain Rogers?”

“It cannot, my prince,” Eir answered.

“If I perform the spell to conceal the dreams, the Allfather will see,” Frigga stated.

“I will ready the horses to immediately leave, then, mother,” Thor stated.

Before he could move to leave, Steve saw Frigga place a hand on her son’s arm, saying, “I will not be able to protect Lady Jane, once the Allfather discovers that she no longer holds the Aether within her—”

“What?” Steve exclaimed before Thor could do so.

“The hell—?” Tony questioned as well.

“The Allfather cannot do such a thing, mother!” Thor said, looking at her in disbelief. “Lady Jane is vital to the protection of Midgar—”

“Damn fucking straight she is,” Tony chimed in.

“Just get it over with, Eir,” Steve interrupted. “I don’t care about my privacy if it means that Dr. Foster will continue to be protected, hidden, or whatever the hell is going on here.”

“Steve—” Natasha began.

“I’ll be all right, Nat. We all have skeletons in our closets,” Steve stated, nodding towards Eir. “I’ve learned long ago not to be afraid of mine. Whatever the hell this ‘sleep’ is, I’ll try to keep my dreams from spoiling anything in the future.”

“As you wish, Warrior Rogers,” Eir said, nodding once.

A separate barrier system, blue in color, slammed up and around Natasha, Bruce, and Tony. At once, an inexplicable sleepiness spread over Steve. As Steve’s instincts tried to blinked the lethargy away, he turned his head ever so slightly to see Natasha pressing her hand on the barrier, watching over him with worry in her eyes, lips thinned—

— _it burned across his lips, in a way that Steve had never felt before. The kiss that he had shared with Peggy in 1945 was completely different than the one Natasha had given him—_

— _Steve watched Bucky kissing the girl with some degree of jealousy. Jealousy that he knew that he shouldn’t have, but couldn’t help but feel. He imagined how it would feel for his own lips to be pressed as passionately—_

— _roughly against the palm of his hand. It was the only way Steve reminded himself that he was alive. That each step up to the apartment that had held joy and happiness for all of his life thus far was now a tomb of quiet—_

—“… _with you, until the end of the line, pal.” Bucky’s reassuring hand on his shoulder was a comfort Steve didn’t realize he needed. But his parents were together again, reunited in death, and resting at peace for eternity. Steve nodded, but even then, he still felt a hollowness that he knew would not be filled, if ever—_

— _the stones felt rough against his fingers, but they were clean now. Their names were clearly displayed for all to see again; remembered in passing by those who walked past – however fleeting those passerby were. He sat back on the ground, and dusted his hands off to the side._

“ _Hey Mom. Hi Dad,” Steve softly said. “It’s good to see you again. I’m sorry it’s taken me this long to come back to visit.”_

_There was no breeze or the rustling of tree leaves to answer him. It was not a fiction that Steve believed in anyways – that sitting here in the graveyard where his parents were buried, would answer everything. Instead, he always silently prayed that when his parents looked down at him from Heaven, they understood what he did and why he did so._

_Yet, that still did not prevent Steve from visiting. It just had been years since he had been here. Long years in which he had raged against God for making his mother suffer in her last months of life. And only less than a year since he had finally let the anger he felt against God, go._

_And let kindness – love – back in._

_Steve owed it all to Bucky. He glanced over to his left, where Bucky sat – several yards away – in the driver’s side of the borrowed car, parked under the shade. His best friend had a pulp magazine out and was reading it; allowing Steve to sit and ‘talk’ with his parents in private._

_He returned his gaze onto the gravestones of his parents, freshly cleaned with his own two hands. He couldn’t help but gently snort in laughter; finding it slightly amusing that his thoughts had turned the way they had turned._

“ _I’m dong all right,” Steve continued to say. “I hope you’ll be happy to hear that I gave up on maintaining the rent in that old place we lived in Mom. I moved in with Bucky. We’re living in an apartment close to where he works – the Naval Shipyards. And, I’m finally submitting a lot more political cartoons and the like to publishers.”_

_He reached out and brushed his fingers across his father’s name on the gravestone. “I saved your clock, Dad. It now sits on the table, sometimes reminding me that I really should go to sleep in my own bed, instead of the table.”_

_Steve couldn’t help the light laughter that emerged from his lips. “Bucky keeps waking me up whenever he comes home from work or the dance halls. He’s been forcing me to go to sleep in a bed, instead of using the table as a place to rest my head.”_

“ _But,” he sighed. “Neither of you have to worry about me. I’m making my own way in the world. And…”_

_Steve couldn’t help but bite his lower lip for a moment. During the last few years of his mother’s life, he had been so busy trying to take care of her that he hadn’t had time to look after himself._

_Hadn’t gotten a chance to ever properly ask a girl out on a date. Hadn’t even noticed that his body had changed, his voice had dropped, that he woke up stiff at times, had grown skinnier and more gangling, and hair had started to grow in places where hair used to not be._

_Not until after his mother had died. Until he had to borrow a suit for the funeral from the neighbors, because the one he wore to church no longer fit properly. Until he had run into Bucky after the funeral and realized that his best friend had grown taller – much taller – than he did._

_And a hell of a lot more handsome._

“ _I’m going on dates,” he said, looking up into the sky. “Or at least double-dating with Bucky and whatever girl he’s seeing that week, and that girl’s friend.”_

_A bitter smile quirked up his lips. “It’s really hard to get a date on my own when girls aren’t lining up, afraid to squash someone of my size. But I can’t complain; Bucky’s already doing more for me than I really deserve, driving me here, sharing rent and roof with me, asking all these girls out on my behalf. I try to be nice to the girls – one did come talk to me the day after our date and told me that she had a lovely time, but…”_

_Steve couldn’t help the sigh that escaped his lips again as he glanced down from the sunny sky. “I don’t know if I deserve all this, Mom and Dad. I don’t even know… I mean, girls are lovely and pretty. I still like them, but…”_

_Weaving his hands together, Steve fell silence as he hugged his knobby knees to his chest. “It is right to like – to love – boys? Men? Even just… Bucky? If no one else will have me?”_

_That was the heart of it, and it felt strange, yet relieving for Steve to have stated it out loud. At the age of twenty, he felt like he was at least four or five years behind in terms of awakening to life. As if his hormones, his awareness, and his primal wants and needs had just suddenly switched on._

_It didn’t help that it was late summer, and that he realized that the way he looked at girls in their pretty dresses was similar to how he admired and looked at Bucky. Not as a subject of his sketches, but…_

“ _The Bible, even the newspapers,” he began softly. “They all say it’s wrong—”_

_Steve didn’t believe in the winds of Nature answering him, but the sudden breeze that rustled through the trees seemed to cuff him on the back of his head. As if it were God himself saying, “it’s not wrong, you idiot”._

_The imagined voice of God in his head also happened to sound suspiciously like Bucky. Steve looked up and around, but he wasn’t sure if it was imagined or not. He let loose a sigh again; it was time to go – he had made Bucky wait too long for what was supposed to be a short visit to the grave sites._

“ _I don’t know what to do, Mom and Dad,” he said after a moment. “But I hope that you’ll understand. I’ll try to visit more often, but today, I got here via Bucky borrowing his mother’s car. I can’t keep depending on him to bring me to places.”_

_He laughed a little. “Maybe I should try to marry rich. Find an old… ah, never mind.”_

_Steve reached out and brushed his fingers over both of his parents’ gravestones. “I love you both. I miss you. And I hope you’re both doing all right in Heaven. Thank you, for watching over me.”_

_Standing up, Steve rolled his neck around once, trying to get rid of the crick he still felt from this morning. It really didn’t matter where he slept – head pillowed on the table, or even in his own bed, he always woke up feeling that ache in his neck._

_Returning to the car, he opened the door to the passenger side, just as Bucky closed the magazine and tossed it into the rear seat of the car. Steve tiredly got in and closed the door, just as he felt a warm, strong and comforting hand land on his shoulder._

_Bucky gently squeezed his bony shoulder, saying, “You gonna be all right?”_

_It took Steve a slight amount of effort to look up, feeling unexpectedly drained and tired. As much as he wanted to lean into Bucky’s touch, he didn’t. He didn’t even know or dare ask Bucky what he thought about ‘unconventional relationships’._

_It was crystal clear to him that Bucky preferred the company of women; Bucky’s constant flirting and dating of various girls was proof. Steve knew that he would have to live with that – as he had been doing since they were children._

“ _Yeah,” he said, nodding. “I’ll be all right.”_

_Perhaps one day, he would find the right partner himself—_

—“ _Steve!” Peggy’s shout drew him back to her for a brief moment – a brief kiss that tasted sweet. Bittersweet and wonderful at the same time—_

—“… _you’re alive!” Steve’s heart broke every single time she forgot, but he would never let her know that. Seventy years was too much—_

—“… _a little difficult, finding someone with shared history,” he told Natasha. Everyone he knew was dead – everyone except for Peggy—_

— _and she was as fierce-looking as she had been during the war. Steve missed her so much, the sharpness of her eyes; the way she carried herself; charging at the forefront into battle even as shrapnel exploded all around her—_

— _the last of the bodies. A child that Steve could only guess who was no more than seven or eight. He gently laid the body to rest in the grave, taking care to fold the child’s hands together._

_Falsworth’s hand appeared at the top of his vision. He grabbed onto it and briefly used it as leverage to climb up out of the grave._

_Damn the war; the victims were always the innocent._

“ _Cap, you might want to talk to Barnes. I think something’s wrong. Last body he carried up was a young woman. After that, he’s been sitting there for the past thirty minutes,” Falsworth quietly stated. “We’ll take care of the rest here.”_

_Nodding his silent thanks to him, Steve looked over to see Bucky sitting next to the pile of dirt that had been dug up to create the grave. Bucky had his face buried in his hands._

_Steve went over, but didn’t say a word. He merely reached out and placed a comforting hand on Bucky’s shoulder. He could feel his best friend trembling under his hand, but there wasn’t any sound coming from Bucky._

_It was a few minutes after the sound of DumDum and Falsworth beginning to shovel dirt onto the remaining open graves that Steve finally said, “You want to talk, Buck?”_

_The slight negative shake of his head from Bucky gave him his answer. Yet, it was the quick follow up of Bucky shaking his head in affirmation that kept Steve silent._

“ _The girl I carried up,” Bucky began, voice hoarse, face still buried in his hands. “She looked like Agnes. She looked like one of my sisters. Cold. Blue. Stiff. Lifeless. I had to—I had to break her bones just to fold her. To get her to fit into—”_

_Damn the war—_

It was the sudden hum that disappeared from the back of Steve’s mind that woke him up. The memories and dreams faded, but he dared not to grasp at the last vestiges of them. Steve blinked, eyes focusing above then around, as the projection of his body on the Soul Forge faded away.

“Is it…” he began as he sat up and swung his legs over to the side, strangely feeling a lot stronger than before. The sword was still there, but it seemed a lot brighter, shinier and cleaner than it had been.

“It is complete,” Eir answered, tapping, nodding for one of her fellow healers to lift the blue-colored sectioned wards up.

Natasha and Bruce immediately disappeared. Steve met Tony’s contemplative stare, before his friend unexpectedly stated, “Not one of us are judging you for your memories, or what you’ve been through, Rogers. If any of those Asgardian assholes do, let us know.”

Steve blinked in surprise as Tony then disappeared. However, he didn’t get to stew on Tony’s words as Eir approached. In her hands, was a cylindrical vial that was burnished in a metal with a blue sheen to it.

“You only need to open this and allow the spell to disperse into the air,” Eir stated. “With the atmospheric currents of Midgar the way they are, it will encircle your realm within a week. It will remain in the air for four of your realm’s summers, to give you some time to search for and destroy all of the cursed swords.”

“Will people die within that week?” Steve asked, gingerly taking the vial and placing it into one of his belt compartments.

“No,” Eir answered. “But they will suffer. That is something that cannot be prevented.”

“What about this sword?” Steve asked picking up the sword and lightly held it in his hand.

“It has been cleaned of the curse. But it is not for you to use in full, Warrior Rogers,” she answered. “These swords were originally given to our warriors who had fallen to despair and ruin, but not perish in battle. They were meant to help repair fragmented memories – to make whole again and allow them a final chance at glory.”

“Glory. Not peace?” Steve questioned.

“Peace without glory is possible,” Eir stated. Strangely, her eyes briefly strayed to Thor, before focusing back on him.

“Why do I feel stronger than I used to, Eir?” Steve asked, deciding to leave that matter alone as he snapped the sword to his back.

“The Aether. Our stories tell of it turning matter into dark matter, of it seeking a host and draining it until there is nothing left. Your resilience in remaining alive while carrying it is remarkable, Warrior Rogers. Separation from it, even for that brief amount of time, has allowed your body to return to full strength,” she answered.

“It seemed satisfied whenever I feed it memories, whenever I use it to show memories—”

“Ah, it may be then, that allowing it another form to live off of, kept it at bay. But it is only theory, and I can only trust your word as to the properties of it. My fellow Healers and I have never had a chance to study it before – nor would we ever think of entertaining such reasons to do so,” Eir answered in a cautious tone.

“All right,” Steve said, nodding. “Thank you, Eir.” He stood up and faced the others, saying, “And thank you, Queen Frigga, for your generosity and mercy. I’m ready to hold up my end of the bargain. Where do you need me to go?”

“To the edge of our realm. There, you shall deposit the stone into a portal,” Frigga answered. “Thor will pilot the vessel. Once you’ve completed the task, then the contract is complete.”

Steve nodded. A moment later, all of the wards dropped. That was also when Steve finally retracted his time-jump armor in full, and breathed in the strange-smelling air. It wasn’t a sterile smell, but there was a hint of sharpness to it.

Thor nodded once towards his mother and left. Steve followed, and together they made their way to wherever the space-faring ships were kept.

He had to force himself to keep moving, even though he wanted to just stop and admire Asgard for its beauty. The journey to the bay was not as short as Steve had thought it would be, but it was not long enough for him to begin to grasp the scope of just how enormous Asgard was.

It wasn’t until he was seated in the copilot’s seat, the configuration and cockpit similar to most other ships – space-faring and terrestrial – that Steve finally got to see the full beauty of Asgard. Its palace, lands, and even the Bi-Frost Bridge, and the enormity of the place.

Along with just how strange it looked from space.

While on the surface, and at least a few thousand feet up in the air, it looked like Asgard matched the curvature of a planet. As they pulled further and further away, Asgard looked more like a spinning top than anything else.

“It’s...” he couldn’t help but say as he leaned forward, trying to be careful to not touch buttons, dials, or the like on the cockpit panels before him.

“I see you are at a loss of words, Captain Rogers,” Thor’s laughter and conversational words brought Steve out of his staring.

“Uh, yeah,” Steve answered, blinking and tilting his head ever so slightly as he wondered just what caused the world to look—

“We are headed to there,” Thor began, answering his unasked question as the ship turned 180 degrees from where it had been.

It was now pointed directly at an enormous… hole… for the lack of a better word.

Steve hadn’t read up enough about black holes, relativity, and general quantum physics; owing to not a lot of interest in it. But he knew that Bucky devoured those kinds of theories and papers. His best friend did so, simply because he loved reading those pulp science-fiction novels that took the bleeding edge of discoveries in science, and spun so many fantastical stories.

In this instant, Steve had no doubt as to what he was seeing in front of him. The edges of the black hole were feathered with what looked like soft hues of red that ranged in deep colors to light, before dissipating out into space.

“Actually, I was going to say, your home looks so weird, Point Break,” Tony’s sudden quip from behind them had both of them glancing back for a moment.

“You live near an active Einstein-Rosen bridge,” Tony stated, bluntly.

“A what?” Steve questioned, giving Tony a puzzled look

“A wormhole, Cap. Honestly, haven’t you even gotten caught up on anything before—”

“Spoilers, Tony,” Natasha breezily stated, appearing next to Tony. “And besides, that doesn’t look like what I thought wormholes looked like. Didn’t Dr. Foster say that the Bi-Frost was an Einstein-Rosen bridge?”

“Yeah. A well controlled one. And besides, all bridges can’t be that shimmering blue like a Stargate,” Tony stated.

“Nope,” Tony continued, dusting his hands. “My guess is that either Mother Nature had a bad day and decided to shoot a wormhole through a collapsing neutron star, or space is weirder than we’ve ever encountered. Asgard’s shape not withstanding. Flat Earthers would have a field day with Asgard.”

Tony shrugged. “But ehhh, it does explain how you Asgardians are long-lived. Wormholes do provide the possibility of time travel. Albeit you can’t pick and choose when in time you land. You peoples living so close to an active one barreling through a neutron star can pretty much call it a black hole.”

“Will the gravitational forces on the relative edge of the hole, or time dilation be enough to destroy the Reality Stone?” Steve asked. “I mean, relative to where we are, even if we propel it towards the hole, it would take thousands of years to see it completely destroyed.”

Tony blinked and stared at him long enough that Steve felt slightly uncomfortable. “Holy shit, Cap. I never knew—”

“Tony,” Steve began, partially rolling his eyes.

“I think Tony meant to say ‘yes’ to your question, Steve,” Natasha stated, shaking her head slightly.

“Yes,” Tony said after some prompting by Natasha.

“The ingot or stone cannot be destroyed,” Thor spoke up, drawing their attention to him. “But you are partially correct in your assessment, Captain Rogers. Stretching the relative time around the stone will make it more difficult for anyone else to get their hands on it. Even if they did, when they return, the galaxy around them will have changed.

Thor got up from the chair after setting what looked to be the autopilot on. Both Natasha and Tony crowded away from him, as he brushed past them and headed aft. Steve got up and followed.

“I believe that this was the intention that my mother had had all along for the stone,” Thor said, stopping at what looked like a separate station within the ship. “This ship has specialized items that are used by our people to monitor and draw information on the bridge. It is said that the information gathered was used to create the original Bi-Frost Bridge. We had recently used it again to repair the Bridge.”

Thor gestured to a tiny pod about a quarter the size of him. It looked ready to be launched with several sensors and the like dotting it. Thor pressed a tiny button that opened up a small compartment within the pod.

“The stone will be placed in here, and the pod launched. There are several of these already strung in various points of relative time around the bridge. Since these pods are not attached to the relative time shield around this ship, they remain in various states of decay and destruction. This is what the stone will be carried through.”

“Wait, relative time shielding?” Steve asked.

“We’re somehow linked back to Asgard’s time flow in the ship, aren’t we?” Tony spoke up. “While we’re barreling towards this black hole, the ship is still operating in sync with Asgard. It’s how you’ve gotten real-time information about the hole and how you’re able to build the Bi-Frost Bridge. Your sensor pods are dropped and they stretch and contract to the black hole’s gravitational pull.”

“That is correct,” Thor answered, nodding once.

“God, I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’m actually jealous of Dr. Foster,” Tony muttered, before fading away. “She got to experience a ride through an actual Einstein-Rosen bridge…”

“Nat?” Steve questioned, feeling a little concerned. “Is Tony—”

“He’ll be fine,” Natasha breezily stated. “You know him and science and engineering. It’ll take some time to get to the point where we can safely guarantee that no one else will be able to get their hands on the stone, right, Thor?”

“Yes, Agent Romanov,” Thor nodded once. “The edge of the gravitational pull where the ship can still escape it without becoming trapped.”

Natasha nodded, before she too disappeared. It seemed that his friends were not keen on remaining to talk to Thor. Considering the last few relative months that they had been through, Steve didn’t blame them for being reticent now. Even he was reluctant to tell Thor what would happen in the future.

It was already changed for this timeline starting in 2013 – with his refusal to put the Reality Stone – the Aether – back into Jane. Only time would tell if 2018 would happen the same as it did in his own timeline.

“If you wish to be left alone, Captain Rogers, I am willing to remain here—” Thor began.

“No,” Steve said, shaking his head. “It’s all right.”

“Then allow me to be as proper of a host and friend as I can, and invite you to drink with me,” Thor said, going to another station. “It is not the mead that we usually serve, as my people operating this vessel while inebriated would not be conducive to the proper collection of data. But it is something warm enough that I hope will soothe what that ails you.”

“Thank you, Thor,” Steve said, after accepting what looked and smelled like strong tea from the cup that Thor offered.

Thor sat on the ground, and Steve joined him, sitting cross-legged. He held the cup between his hands, sipping the strange drink every so often. “You want to ask about the future, don’t you?” he asked after a moment.

“No,” Thor answered, shaking his head slightly. “But your dreams… you memories. I knew not of the pain and loss you carried when we met and fought together in New York,” Thor stated. “Forgive me.”

“There’s nothing to forgive, Thor,” Steve said, shaking his head. “Fighting aliens is a whole hell lot different than fighting against my own kind. Besides, there was nothing for you to even know. Please don’t treat my counterpart in this point in time any different, Thor. I’m not him.”

“But you do carry similar burdens,” Thor answered. “A dear friend and love, lost to the river of time.”

Steve remained silent. He knew he could unglove his hand and show Thor the wedding ring he wore, but it would only serve no purpose to his own self at this point in time.

It was also slightly strange for him to see and hear Thor be contemplative. To be a counselor, when all he remembered of his friend was his boisterous countenance.

“But come, my friend,” Thor said, grinning. “Let us drink and we shall pass the time with stories of the great battles that I have been in. All together with even better victory than we have experienced in New York!”

“All right,” Steve smiled, raising his cup slightly. “I’ll drink to good stories.”

Bombastic, grandiose tales from Thor passed the hours it took to get to the point in space between the edge of crushing gravity and escape. Steve laughed at some of the more ridiculous ones, feeling a lot lighter, and happier than he had been for a while.

He was still aware that those he left behind in 1949 still needed a cure, but just being here – in a situation that was not pulse-poundingly desperate or harrowing, felt different. The stone still needed to be returned, but he had bargained for a cure with no lives lost.

A beep from the cockpit drew Thor’s attention away. Knowing that it was more than likely that they had finally arrived at their destination, Steve picked up the cups and placed them in the station where the drinks had been dispensed.

He went over to the pod station, and pressed the button to open the device. Thor returned to the aft of the spacecraft, having done whatever he was doing to ensure that the ship remained where it was.

The Reality Stone slipped into Steve’s left hand. He brought it up and uncurled his fingers. The red stone glowed and seemed to wink at him. It didn’t claw its insatiable hunger at him. Strangely enough, seemed to understand that it was time for it to go.

“Captain Rogers?” Thor’s prompt caused Steve to blink slightly as he realized he had not yet dumped the stone into the pod.

“Yeah, sorry, Thor,” he apologized, and immediately deposited the stone into the pod.

Thor then pushed a few buttons on the panel, and sealed the access port against the vacuum of space. A moment later, Thor pressed the button and a faint hiss was heard—

“Thank you, for returning the stone.”

Steve immediately whipped around, right hand going for the sword strapped to his back; only to find his hand hovering over the hilt, as a blade was immediately thrust into his face.

The tip of the blade hovered a few inches before his right eye. The hand and arm that owned the blade bled into a deep blue body-suited alien woman with horns for hair, a familiar cruel smile, and yellow eyes staring at him.

“Proxima Midnight,” Steve breathed ever so slightly.

“What the—” Thor began, having also turned, with Mjolnir partially raised at the ready.

“Don’t, son of Odin,” Midnight stated.

Steve saw her reach out towards another panel on the spaceship with her freed hand. She manipulated a few things—

“Don’t you—” Thor began, but dared not take a step forward, as Midnight moved the blade ever closer to Steve’s eye.

Fear didn’t grip Steve, but he knew from what Natasha had quietly old him about Corvus Glaive showing up in 1970, Proxima Midnight’s blade probably contained or was coated with something bad.

He knew that there was not enough of his own blood packs in 1949 left to do another full transfusion. The majority had been used for the radiation poisoning.

Yet, even as precarious as the situation was, Steve’s left hand was still free. Thor’s grip on the hammer was loose in preparation to throw. How Mjolnir responded to his will was still puzzling, but nevertheless it still did—

Steve squeezed his eyes shut for just a split second as he wrenched his head back and away. At nearly the same time, he flung his left hand to the side, willing Mjolnir to fly into it.

The blade that held at him was smashed to the side – as he stumbled and felt the hammer land. He felt no flare of pain, nor trickle of blood, as he snapped his eyes open.

Thor leapt at Midnight, ramming directly into her. Steve let Mjolnir go as it flew into Thor’s hand. As he detached the blade from his back, he saw Thor swing and smash the hammer into Midnight’s arm. Midnight’s blade clattered to the floor.

Stunned by Thor, Steve slipped in. Just as Thor unleashed a bolt of electricity into Midnight, shocking her some more, Steve rammed the blade up and into her, twisting it.

She collapsed onto the floor, dead. Steve managed to yank the purple-blood-covered blade out with little issue. Even without prompting, Thor was already at the station the alien had fiddled with—

“The hell did she do, Thor?” Steve questioned.

“Send a signal to somewhere unknown,” Thor answered. “Our current coordinates. It’s been shut off—”

“She must have summoned this timeline’s, this reality’s Thanos,” Steve realized. “We’ve got to get out of here and warn Asgard—”

“I think this is the button,” Tony’s voice suddenly issued from the cockpit.

A moment later, Steve felt the distinct shuddering through the spacecraft that told them that they were moving. Thor wasted no time, and returned to the cockpit.

Tony immediately disappeared, but not before giving both of them a rather jovial wave of having piloted a ship in space. Steve thought it certainly wasn’t the time or place to do such a thing.

Nevertheless, Steve slipped into the copilot’s chair while Thor took control again. They were flying backwards, but before Thor could turn the ship around, an enormous ship suddenly appeared.

Against the light of the enormous wormhole, it looked like a jagged black blade with a red crystal deep in the center. “That’s not—”

The center console beeped, as a holographic image popped up. Asgardian runes displayed on the bottom told them what the ship was, but Steve couldn’t read it.

“That can’t be…” Thor began, hitting the console for a moment. “Dark Elves? Father said that they were all killed—”

“Thor!” Steve began, as his eyes widened in pure surprise, as _another_ ship – this one almost as enormous as the Dark Elf ship was – appeared. “Thanos is here—”

“And both of them are going to annihilate each other,” Tony suddenly spoke up, standing at the threshold between the cockpit and aft of the spacecraft. He looked inordinately pleased with himself.

“And hey, we at least get to see the beginnings of their missile volleys,” the inventor continued to say.

“Wait, what?” Steve began, but then realized what Tony meant with his words. “Relative time,” he concluded.

“Yep,” Tony answered. “You can thank Bruce for his effort in convincing that bitch to do what she did, being the barrier closest to the horde and all.”

“I am, uncertain—” Thor began.

“The stone was released from relative time of the ship, traveling into the wormhole… black hole,” Steve explained. “You said so yourself that you had a lot of probes in various states of decay and destruction.”

“Proxima Midnight,” Tony followed up, jerking a thumb at the dead body laying aft, “sent coordinates of the location to Thanos, not knowing about the relative time of the ship. Or too much about the fact that this wormhole is actually a black hole.”

“And here’s a tiny spoiler for you Thor, but just because you deserve it, Point Break. There’s also the fact that I distinctly remember you briefing us that the Dark Elves attacked Asgard to get at the stone. That Malekieth had found a way to track the Aether. It would make sense that he tracked it all the way here. Bam! You got two giants fighting over the stone with each other, for God knows how long in relative time, while being pulled into the black hole.”

“How long do you think it will take, until they’re either both destroyed, or someone reaches the Reality Stone, Tony?” Steve asked, as Thor blinked in surprise.

“Don’t know, honestly,” Tony answered, shrugging. “But from what I’ve seen, maybe 200 years? By then, they might’ve fallen in further, so maybe another few hundred years before they emerge from that well – if they can. It’ll all seem like seconds, minutes, or hours to them in their own relative time. For the rest of us – we’ll all be dead by then.”

Tony paused, then glanced over at Thor. “Except for you, Point Break. You’re probably still going to be alive.”

“If what you say is true, then my people will monitor, and take action at the appropriate time,” Thor answered. “Neither the Dark Elves, nor this Thanos will survive with the Reality Stone in their possession.”

Tony didn’t say a word, except to disappear. However, as soon as he did, a familiar entity appeared in the aft. “What, now—” Thor began, immediately standing up, Mjolnir ready in his hand again.

“Thor, wait!” Steve said, scrambling out of his seat to dash in front of his friend. “Don’t—Ghost Rider is expected. It’s why Proxima Midnight showed up—”

Thor stopped his advance, but there was a thunderous expression on his face. Steve glanced back, only to see the entity with a flame-covered skull for a head, wrap his chain around the dead body. Without any fanfare, the entity then carved a way back to its own reality, taking the body – everything of Proxima Midnight – with it.

“The sword…” Thor began, alarmed.

Steve pulled his sword from his back and stared at it. The blood was gone; and it was as pristine as he had picked it up at the Soul Forge. He snapped it back into place.

“—or! My prince, do you hear me? Prince Thor!”

The blast of the comm system from the cockpit was a diversion that Steve had never been more grateful for, than now. To explain Ghost Rider’s presence was to involve Thor in a mission he did not want to involve his friend in.

“Heimdall,” Thor keyed the comm. “I can hear you.”

“My prince, there’s been an attack from the lower levels of the dungeons,” Heimdall stated. “We are in the midst of containing it. I cannot see you clearly with your being so close to the Great Gate. Has there been anything out there that may preclude an attack—”

Steve caught Thor’s glance over at him, before keying the comm again, saying, “Perhaps, but the threat is contained for the time being. Let the Allfather and Allmother know that I am on my way home.”

“Understood, my prince,” Heimdall answered.

Thor drew back from the cockpit, and headed aft to the station where the pod had been situated. Steve followed, but didn’t crowd around to see what he was doing.

“I can help, Thor,” Steve began.

“This is not your fight, Captain Rogers,” Thor rumbled. “I thank you for your willingness, but it is not wise to continue to in-debt yourself to Asgard. Especially with the Spirit of Vengeance haunting your every waking hour. You are lucky that neither my mother or father knows of this apparent contract that you have with the Spirit—”

“ _Our_ contract, Thor,” Natasha spoke up, appearing next to the station where the bitter drinks were kept.

She remained there for a moment more, but did not elaborate at all. Thor didn’t question or ask for an elaboration, but Steve did notice the concerned look in his eyes. A half-minute later, Natasha disappeared.

“Though it brings me joy and happiness to see you again, it is as you said; you are not the Captain Rogers I know of. I see that you are of a want to lay your burdens, of the wars and their battles you have fought, to rest. Though I may never know why, this is not your war to fight, Captain Rogers. This is Asgard’s fight.”

Thor reached out and clapped him on the shoulder for a brief moment before pulling back. “Go home, my friend, my brother in battle. Rest, and I hope you may possibly find a small measure of peace and joy, once you and your friends’ contract with the Spirit is complete.”

Steve took a step back, albeit it was reluctantly done so. He could feel the urging of Natasha – the bloom of warmth and reassurance that they should not interfere any longer.

“Be careful, Thor,” Steve said. “And thank you, for everything.”

Tapping the time-jump GPS device, the armor bled over him. A moment later, Thor, the spaceship, and the blinding beauty of the collapsing neutron star, disappeared.

~*~*~*~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There, I fixed a plot hole and inserted a connection between ‘Thor’, ‘Avengers’, ‘Thor: The Dark World’, and ‘Thor: Ragnarok’. How the Asgardians built the Bi-Frost, fixed it, and why the hell Asgard looks like a spinning top. Science! (or at least my manipulation of science + my surface knowledge of quantum physics to just make conversation)
> 
> Also, if it isn’t obvious from the hints I’ve been leaving about Bucky’s intelligence, he’s actually quite smart. From understanding differential geometry when he and Steve were still in school as teenagers, to reading and understanding quantum physics, Bucky (and Steve) is a lot smarter than he lets on. It was only because his family didn’t have the money to send him to university that he never pursued a degree. If he had, he probably would have eventually gotten a doctorate in some science or engineering field.


	30. The Machination – Part 5

**C** **hapter 2** **5** **:** **The Machination – Part 5**

_Predawn, February 6 th, 1949, SSR Headquarters…_

The emergency line rang for two beats before it was picked up.

“Sit-rep,” Peggy stated, knowing that she could not ask after Steve on the phone. It was the sole link to the facility in the event of an emergency lock down, and used only for official purposes.

“We were attacked by the Widows, Peggy,” Daniel stated over the line, sounding hoarse and out of breath. “Five in total. They unleashed… something… we don’t know what it is. But its moving fast through us like a virus. Don’t approach, Peggy. We’ve all been affected by it.”

“Everyone?” she questioned fearfully over the phone.

“Everyone,” Daniel confirmed, before saying in a softer, kinder tone. “I’m sorry, Peggy.”

For a brief moment, Peggy felt her hands and the phone within them shake. Yet, she mastered her shock, marshaling on the fact that she was the Agent-in-Charge of the facility. She had to report facts – to try to keep her own emotions out of it.

And to keep the knowledge that even Steve had been affected by whatever was unleashed – never mind that knowledge of Steve being alive was only known to those in Brooklyn – from affecting her at the moment. Peggy stilled her hands, pressed the phone to her ear again.

“Understood. I’ll brief HQ, and see if a hazard team can be assembled,” she stated.

Daniel hung up a moment later. Peggy placed the phone down, and looked up only to see her brother looking worriedly at her. Again, it seemed to be surface-only, but she took what little comfort there was from that look.

“Biological contaminant,” she stated. “Viral-like. Unknown how, but I bet it was from Howard’s experiments with the serum.”

“Shit,” her brother swore. It looked like he was about to say another thing as frustration appeared on his face, but decided to hold it back. Peggy saw him curl his hands into fists, seemingly wrestling with something before opening his hands.

“It’s all right,” Peggy said.

“No,” Michael answered. “No. I have to learn to put my own feelings aside for this. With Brooklyn now under additional biological lock down, there’s just not enough people to look for David. I’ll… I’ll call MI-5, and have them contact Europe for agents to help. I’ll get Bucky… I’ll get James, on the case, if possible.”

“Michael—” Peggy began, wondering if her doubts about her brother were all for naught. If everything he displayed at the moment was an act or genuine. She couldn’t tell anymore – she couldn’t read her brother, when it had been so easy to do so before. It frightened her as much as Daniel declaring that everyone – including Steve – had been affected by the biological contaminant.

“Go tell Thompson, Pegs,” Michael interrupted, brushing past her to pick up the phone. “I’ll get Europe… Philips, on the horn.”

~~~

There was a slight gravitational difference between the ship and landing on the platform again. But Steve kept his balance as he retracted the armor – but not in full. The helmet remained in place, again, hermetically sealed against the air of the facility.

“Got it,” he stated, scrambling off the platform, as he pulled out the tube from a waist compartment.

Howard looked relieved, while Jarvis had an utterly gobsmacked look about him. Belatedly, Steve realized that this was probably the first time Jarvis had seen the machine in use. However, neither looked to be affected by the biological contaminant yet.

“Best stay here for now, Howard and Jarvis. We don’t know if the lone Widow will attack” Steve said, racing up the stairs.

“We’ll get the inventory checkoff started, Captain!” Jarvis called after him.

Ahead, Tony was already punching in the override. Steve slipped through with little trouble, and Natasha shut the door behind him, locking it down again. As Tony raced to the front to figure out how to repair or unlock the half-destroyed security measures without setting what remained off, Steve turned his attention to those gathered in the other hallways.

“That was fast,” DumDum said, coughing.

“Yeah,” Steve said, nodding slightly, but didn’t continue on with his quip about the relative time he had spent in 2013. “Gonna get this up to the rooftop – it's an aerosol, and will be carried by the wind into vents and homes. Has a global perimeter of one week tops, before you’ll all feel better.”

“One week?” Daniel questioned from where he was sitting, looking not as bad as DumDum, but still pale and sweaty.

“Best they could do, Agent,” Steve answered. “I was told that you’ll not die, and I trust their word.”

“They?” Vera questioned at nearly the same time Dottie did as well. “They who?”

“You’re not authorized for that brief, Agent Underwood,” Sousa said, coughing and clearing his throat. “Neither are you, Mrs. Barnes.”

“Speaking of which,” Li huffed, bracing himself slightly against the wall, “thought you were back in England, Barnes. Whatcha doing back here anyways?”

“Case,” Bucky answered in a short tone. “And heard about David being snatched. FUBAR’ed my case though.”

“Tony?” Steve barked, glancing back to see Tony still fiddling with some wires that had been pulled out of the panel.

“Give me a second, Cap. Jesus,” Tony muttered, annoyed.

“Bucky,” Steve said, focusing back on the present – to help deflect the 107th’s interest in why Bucky had suddenly returned. “You still got that other armor on you?”

“Tossed it somewhere in the belly immediately after that incident,” Bucky answered, shaking his head slightly. “Don’t know where it went—”

“All right, Cap, it’s temporarily disabled,” Tony interrupted.

“No time to look for it anyways,” Steve said, pulling out the mask and glasses that Bucky had handed to him in 2012, from another compartment. He had never returned it to him, as there hadn’t been a need to do so.

“Not quite a respirator or transmission proof, but it’ll have to do,” he said, handing both objects to Bucky. “The two of us will have to go collect the bodies. We don’t know if the Widows themselves are carriers, or infected—”

“Don’t fucking burn the bodies in the open,” Tony warned. “Snow and night like this, any fire’s sure going to attract more attention. Better to dig deep and then light the pit on fire.”

“The old place has been consigned to condemnation for the past two years,” Bucky suggested. “Good place to burn bodies.”

Steve blinked once, then nodded. It wasn’t far from the Brooklyn facility, but if the apartment building and area was condemned and slated to be torn down, then they could theoretically create a pit large and deep enough to burn the bodies.

“After I get this out, I’ll get the five on the street and start digging the hole. Get the others?” he asked.

“Will do, Steve,” Bucky agreed, taking the half-mask and glasses, but did not immediately put them on.

“Hey, we’re gonna help—” DumDum began, forcing himself to sit up.

“Don’t leave the building, Lieutenant,” Steve interrupted, shaking his head. “You’re symptomatic and clearly ill. You go outside, you run the potential of spreading the virus. Same goes for you, Mrs. Barnes, and…”

“Natalie,” Becca helpfully supplied the name of her daughter.

“Natalie,” Steve repeated.

Natasha of this day and age, unchanged and not looking like she did in his timeline and future with her fire-red hair and curvy figure, was still pretty-looking. But Natalie was clearly a teenager who was still growing into her body. Steve briefly thought it sad that the Soviets had had to alter Natasha’s appearance – just to try to integrate her into the Winter Guard.

“The two of you,” Steve continued, “may not be carrying the virus, but we can’t run the risk that both of you may potentially become asymptomatic.”

“Spoken like a nurse, or doctor, Cap,” Sousa couldn’t help but quip, though his voice was hoarse.

“Mom was a nurse,” Steve answered, before leaving.

Outside, as Tony secured the door, Steve turned to him, saying, “Stay here, Tony. I need you to be relay and continue to scan everyone in there. If there’s any symptomatic changes – worse or better – let me know.”

“Yeah,” Tony answered, then disappeared a few seconds later.

“Guess I’ll start digging then,” Natasha stated, appearing. “Where’s this ‘old place’, Barnes?”

“Where we first interrogated Underwood,” Bucky answered.

Natasha didn’t say a word and merely lifted an eyebrow at both of them, before disappearing.

“Steve?” Bucky questioned before Steve could head to the stairs that would take him up to the rooftop. “Why’d you give me the shield?”

Steve remained silent for a few long seconds as Bucky pulled the shield forward. “I don’t know what’s going to happen after I return the Soul Stone, Buck,” he began.

“Your friends have an agreement with Ghost Rider about those who were snapped away in that battle,” Bucky stated. “I think you know who or what is coming after you return that stone, Steve.”

He glanced down at the shield, before lifting his eyes to meet Bucky’s own. He still had his doubts, but considering the pattern of who showed up almost every time he returned a stone, he was fairly certain now as to what Ghost Rider’s own endgame was.

“If I don’t make it back—” Steve began.

“Don’t you dare, Steve—” Bucky interrupted.

“If I don’t make it back,” Steve pushed on, “you’ve more than earned the right to wield that shield. Like I said before, you’re _a_ winter soldier. That shield, and everything that goes with it – you embody it – better than I can—”

“So that’s it? You’re retiring again?” Bucky asked, though the hurt and accusation that Steve expected was not in his friend’s tone.

“DC operations are still ongoing,” Steve answered. “I don’t know what Philips is going to do after this Widow attack. It’s clear that too many people know that I am alive. We still need clear evidence about Wolf Spider, but—”

“Strategically, you’re spent,” Bucky answered.

“Yeah,” Steve agreed.

“Take it back,” Bucky suddenly said, thrusting the shield at him.

Steve looked at the shield, and at the stubborn set of Bucky’s jaw. He knew why Bucky was not accepting the shield. But he also knew that convincing him otherwise at this juncture was useless. The self-doubt that gripped Bucky still had her claws sunk deep into him.

“How about we trade?” he said, reaching back to snap the cleaned sword off his back. “Sword for shield?”

“I’ll bring a rifle to the fight, thanks,” Bucky stated, reaching up to pat the butt of his sniper rifle. “You can go be a Roman legion.”

“All right,” Steve answered, briefly smiling at the humorous comparison.

He snapped the sword back in place. Then, he took the shield, and carefully hooked it to the spot where the magnetic hook was still able to catch the straps.

Bucky didn’t say another word and silently turned and left. Steve couldn’t help but note that he did look a lot more relaxed than before. As much as he hoped to ‘pass the torch’ of being Captain America to Bucky – perhaps it was too fast, too early.

“Natasha?” he called out.

“Steve,” she answered, appearing with a shovel in her hands.

“I’ll take that,” he said, reaching out with his free hand to take the shovel from her. “Watch over Bucky, please?”

“Bad feeling about where he’s going?”

“Yeah,” he answered. “Among other things. Just worried about him, especially in light of all of this happening all at once.”

“You worry too much, Steve,” she gently admonished. “He’s stronger than he looks.”

“I know,” Steve answered, as he began to make his way up to the rooftop. “But, I can’t help but worry about him as much as I worry about Peggy.”

* * *

The rotating lights of the police out in front of the apartment building were harsh against the white snow. Yet, the bodies of the eight Widows that had been killed by him, Natasha, and Steve were not there. Blood spots, certainly, but strangely, no bodies.

Only the remains of footsteps, of the scuffles, and scrapes that indicated a fight had happened, were here. Officers wrapped up in their winter coats surrounded the area, the street lights and their rotating lights illuminating them. They were questioning neighbors.

Bucky mentally cursed as he slipped into an alleyway two city blocks from where the perimeter started. He quickly but silently climbed up the emergency stairwell. On the rooftop, it looked clearer, but if he didn’t move soon, eventually the police would send their own people up to inspect the place as well.

He hoped that the cure Steve brought back and strangely unleashed into the air was enough. Would be enough. No one – not even Steve – knew if there were any lingering effects of the strange wolves and equally strange swords. While the SSR’s encounters with the Widows in prior times did not yield a virus being unleashed – at least not visibly – it was an unknown factor.

Leaping easily from rooftop to rooftop, Bucky didn’t bother to clean his footprints. It looked as if the police were occupied by the remnants of the battle outside. He hoped that they hadn’t gone into the building yet. Perhaps he would be able to retrieve the dead Widow who had attacked his family.

Six out of the fifteen was not good, but with only the police present and no sign of a morgue vehicle or even hospital truck tracks on the snow-covered streets, Bucky wondered where the bodies went. The murmurs and snatches of conversations he picked up with his enhanced hearing certainly didn’t lend any leads that the police had stashed the eight bodies into their cars – they were not that cruel.

Nevertheless, Bucky finally made it to his family’s former apartment building and quickly climbed down to the appropriate floor. Peering into the curtained window of the room that the emergency stairwell’s landing was situated on, he peered in. It was dark, and he couldn’t hear any sound of anyone walking around.

Bucky cracked open the window with sheer force, using his left hand. Then, he carefully slipped into bedroom. There were still no sounds coming from the apartment as a whole, but he didn’t discount that the door to the bedroom was closed.

Standing near the window with only the faint illumination of indirect streetlights lighting the area, he noted that the bedroom looked fairly spartan. There were a few personal items – hairbrush, mirror, and a tiny jewelry box on the dresser. No photographs—

A piece of paper, familiar in handwriting, laid to the side of the dresser. An unbidden, faint smile crawled up his lips as he saw it was the sheet of math problems that he had helped Natalie with. There was a circle around the concept he had written down from her, with a note written in Russian to find more information about the concept and fully learn it.

Bucky didn’t stay long in Natalie’s bedroom. Creeping to the door, he pressed his ear against the door, listening carefully. There was still no sound. Quietly, he opened the door and peeked out.

The hall that he had found his sister and her husband in was a wreck. The bedroom at the end of the hall was their bedroom, and the door was still flung half-way open. The baseball bat was on the floor, dents still littering the wall, but the body… the dead Widow was not there.

Again, blood that had been absorbed into the floor and carpet remained, as did the shell casings, but—

At once, Bucky heard the faintest scraping noise. Quickly pulling out his gun and unsafing it, he held it steady and head of him. Soundlessly, he crept down the hall, avoiding the broken glass and debris as best as possible. When he got to the threshold between the hall and attached kitchen and dining room, he paused.

“Stop where you are,” he stated.

The person moving towards the front door situated next to the kitchen was a civilian. It was not just how the civilian was dressed – but the way the civilian carried himself; slouching ever so slightly, and generally not having a good sense of alertness.

Bucky’s eyes widened as the civilian turned, his gun dropping ever so slightly—

“Ivchenko,” he whispered.

“Winter Soldier,” Ivchenko said at nearly the same time, surprise etched upon his face as well.

Bucky immediately brought his pistol back up. How was it that the scientist was alive – when he last remembered him being at the Bering Sea facility. He took a step forward—

“James, don’t.”

“Who is that?” Ivchenko immediately questioned, attempting to peer over Bucky’s broad and tall body – a futile effort, considering the narrowness of the hall.

“Give me one good reason why the hell I should let you live, you fucking bastard—” Bucky growled, both at Ivchenko and at Natasha who’s voice had come from behind him.

“Ah, so you remember a little of our… sessions… Winter Soldier,” Ivchenko stated, genially smiling.

Bucky’s grip on the gun tightened slightly. His index finger hovered and brushed against the trigger. All he had to do was pull it, and in less than a second, Ivchenko would die—

“Spetsnaz,” Natasha quietly stated; barely loud enough for him to even catch. “Twenty-five of them in the neighborhood. You kill Ivchenko, they scorch the earth here. They did so on one of my high-value target missions.”

Bucky didn’t dare dismiss her anecdote of the future.

Twenty-five. More than even he knew he could kill before they would kill him. He was a super-soldier, but he was not invincible. Soviet Spetsnaz were the elite of the elite – well, not counting whatever the hell the Widows were.

The Howling Commandos had never encountered one of the units, even in Estonia, but the rumors and stories told about them were just as awe-inspiring as the ones told about the Commandos. Bucky knew enough that they were a force to be reckoned with.

Spetsnaz present in the neighborhood made sense as to why the bodies were gone – why it didn’t look like a hearse, or even a morgue transport had been here. It also answered the question as to why the ‘police’ had gotten to the neighborhood as quickly as they had under the snowy conditions of the roads.

Ivchenko wanted the bodies retrieved—

Bucky immediately lowered the gun and turned away. He caught a glimpse of Natasha before she disappeared as he swiftly made his way down the hall. Ivchenko didn’t follow, but Bucky knew that he would have to make sure _he_ wasn’t followed on his way back to the Brooklyn facility.

And – that he got to the facility, or rather in the area where Steve was burying the bodies, before any Soviet forces reached the area. Time wasn’t the only thing against him; it was the fact that the entire operation was blown.

Quickly making his way out of the apartment, Bucky hurried to the rooftop and took off at a good pace. He would have to ask Natasha later; to ask her to explain what exactly had happened.

Slipping into an alleyway, Bucky made his way back towards the facility – occasionally doubling back to make sure he wasn’t followed. But, he was limited in just how much time he could take to make sure that he wasn’t follow, or erase his footprints.

It was only when he got to the area where Steve was still in the middle of digging the enormous hole, that he said, “Natalia.”

She appeared, and at the same time, Steve looked up. “We got trouble incoming, Steve,” he declared, as Natasha knelt by the bodies and placed her hands on them.

He had hoped that she would be able to dust them, but it looked like dead was dead – and that she and the others living in the Soul Stone could only affect living things. Bucky bit off a curse as Steve shot both of them a curious look.

“Five minutes behind, possibly less,” he stated. “Spetsnaz. Twenty-five of them. Ivchenko is alive and already collected the other nine.”

“Tony,” Steve immediately called out.

“Cap,” Tony answered, appearing.

At nearly the same time, Natasha said, “I’ll be back at base.”

“Brief Sousa,” Bucky stated. Natasha nodded once, then disappeared.

Before the inventor could make a smart quip, Steve asked, “Anything you can do, to get rid of the bodies fast? We got Spetsnaz incoming. They’re collecting the bodies.”

“Short of attempting to set them on fire, no,” Tony said, eyes immediately taking on a hard look. “Bruce?”

“Bruce?” Steve questioned at nearly the same time the enormous green-skinned man appeared.

“I heard what’s happening,” Banner stated. “I don’t know what I can—”

“Toss the bodies into the East River or Bay, buddy,” Tony interrupted.

“What?!” Steve gaped at the same time that Bucky had said the same.

“I can’t fly up, Bruce,” Tony stated. “Fucking Soviet special forces will see me—”

“Tony, that’s still—” Banner protested.

“There’s gotta be another way,” Steve said at nearly the same time.

“Really, Cap?” Tony questioned.

Bucky didn’t like the challenging look in the inventor’s eyes, but he knew that Tony was right. “Toss the bodies,” he spoke up. “It’s the only way.”

“We don’t have time to argue—” Tony followed up.

“I know,” Steve answered, expression closing up. “Toss the bodies, Bruce. Towards the Bay.”

There was reluctance in that order, and though it looked like Banner was going to refuse to obey that order, Bucky was surprised to see Banner nod once. Whatever and however the scientist was feeling about the order given, Banner was going to carry it out.

“Bucky,” Steve said, a heavy, sad feeling in his tone.

“I’ll get the defense squared away,” he answered, catching the tired look in Steve’s eyes. He nodding once as he backtracked and hurried away.

Rather than entering from the front entrance, Bucky did so from the rooftop, inputting in the code, before reactivating the partial lock down. When he finally made his way back into the SSR, those of the 107th were already moving into action.

Even as ill-looking as they were, they were all soldiers and were determined to defend the place to the best of their abilities. As for his family and David, they had been ushered into the lockers area – the door closed, but not yet barricaded.

Surprisingly, Dottie was among the 107th and Sousa in the halls – looking slightly pale, but not as ill-looking as the others yet. Natasha had cracked open the secondary weapons locker, and was carefully resupplying them with ammunition.

“Got an extra sidearm there?” Bucky asked.

“Here,” she said, carefully handing him a Beretta and the two clips for it. “Your mother always had a fondness for this type. Also, Stark and Jarvis have been briefed.”

Bucky nodded once, and left. Knocking on the doors to the lockers, it opened a crack, revealing his mother at the entrance. Wordlessly, he handed her the Beretta and clips. She took it—

“Mom,” he began. “I know I can’t ever make this right, and I’m sorry for involving you, Becca, and—”

“Do not apologize for something that is out of your control, James,” she said. “When I agreed to help you two years ago, I knew that there was a chance that what I sheltered us from would collapse. No one knows the shape of the future, or where it will take us. We only know that it is always born in pain. All I ask of you is that you have a good hunt, James.”

“Bucky, wait!” David’s exclamation issued from further in the locker room.

A second later, Bucky’s mother pulled back to let the engineer through. A familiar-looking clip was shoved through the crack in the door.

“An old clip from your old rifle,” David said. “Compatible cartridges with Caroline, but slower rate of fire. Eighteen.”

“Thank you,” he said, taking the cartridge.

David looked as if he wanted to say something else, but hesitated for a moment. Then he suddenly reached out and placed a hand on his forearm, squeezing ever so slightly. “Be careful, Bucky.”

“I will,” he answered. David let go, and Bucky and left.

The door closed behind him as he made his way through the hall. He caught DumDum by the arm, helping him up. “You really shouldn’t be up, el-tee,” he said, as Natasha deftly snatched the sniper rifle that had almost been dropped.

“Yeah, well…” DumDum stated, giving him a rueful look, before coughing.

“James and I will take the rooftop. Stay below and guard this hall, Lieutenant Dugan, You’ll be the final line of defense between any who get through the others, and civilians.”

“Yes, ma’am,” DumDum answered, raising his eyebrow ever so slightly, but stayed put.

“Get invaded a lot during your time in the Avengers?” Bucky couldn’t help but ask as they hurried out of the actual facility, input the code to lock the door and engage what was left of the defenses.

“No,” she answered as they quickly climbed the stairs to the rooftop. “But when Steve retired from leading the Avengers after Thanos snapped everyone away, I picked up on a few things. Gave it all back to him after he came back – didn’t want the heavy responsibility.”

“And yet…” he began, but let that thought trail off as they exited the roof.

As Natasha re-engaged the lock of the rooftop – its defenses shredded by the Widows’ wolves – she said, “It’s easy to find something worth dying for, James. It’s much more difficult to find something worth living for.”

Bucky remained silent, but as he set himself up in the shadows of the rooftop, he nodded once at her words. Their discussion on the rooftops after he had successfully beaten the embedded commands seemed like a life time ago. Now that he knew just how long and how full of a life Natasha had lived – he now understood the meaning behind her words and actions.

~~~

_SSR Headquarters…_

Войска **спец** иального **наз** начения – twenty-five of them. Here in New York City. Here on US soil. Peggy couldn’t believe it—

“Carter sibs, you’re riding with me,” Thompson stated, snapping Peggy out of her brief fugue as her command snatched up his coat and put it on. He also barked orders to the others to form teams to intercept the twenty-five.

She had just finished briefing Thompson on the biological contaminant lock down at the facility, when the emergency line had rang again. Michael being the closest, had answered – and then poked his head in with the news.

Complete shock and surprise shone in his eyes – and it had reached into the depths.

At present, Peggy followed, snatching up her coat and jamming her hat on her head. Michael had done the same. Thompson didn’t go directly down to the first floor, but made a detour to the armory.

Several agents followed, and Peggy was not the only one to be handed a rifle. As the other agents left, Thompson took the last rifle and handed it to Michael. Her commander didn’t immediately let go and held onto it as Michael took the rifle with both hands.

“Paperwork’s going to be hell, but I trust you to keep our six safe, Carter.”

“Understood, sir,” Michael answered crisply.

A moment later, Thompson let go and swept out. Peggy glanced over at her brother, but his expression was opaque – just like the expression he usually carried when in combat. The first and only time she had seen that expression had been during the Ardennes push in December 1944, when both she had her brother had been trapped behind enemy lines.

There was no more, for now, that Peggy knew she could use or try to use, to figure out if her brother was a turned agent or not. She had to trust him, trust his utter surprise at the appearance of Spetsnaz to not shoot any allies of theirs.

Clattering into Thompson’s car, Thompson careened away, slipping and sliding ever so slightly on the snow covered ground. However, it was cold enough, and the snow compact enough from those who had driven in the streets during the day, that there wasn’t as much slippage as Peggy anticipated.

Michael had taken the rear seats, and had already rolled down the windows. As they crossed the bridge, he poked his head out to look around. Peggy rolled down front passenger side.

Minutes later, they zipped past the darkened SSR building, its exterior looking as normal as possible. Yet, Peggy thought she saw a flash of red hair against the darkened skies of the night over the facility’s rooftop.

If that was Natasha keeping watch from above, then Peggy knew that at least some of the defenses of the base were still up. But about a thousand yards away, in the direction they were driving towards, Thompson’s car lights lit up several figures.

Spetsnaz – five of them flitting behind various snow-covered cars along the side of the street – opened fire.

Thompson immediately slammed on the brakes and Peggy ducked as the bullets peppered the windshield. She threw open her door and rolled out – meeting her brother on the right and directly behind a parked truck.

Thompson’s radio was crackling, but it was shot to pieces that Peggy couldn’t understand what was being shouted. All she could guess was that other SSR teams had encountered Spetsnaz forces as well.

Thompson attempted to trade gunfire with the Spetsnaz team. The horror that had gripped him back when she had first deployed with him to the Soviet border, had not reared its ugly head.

Then, a rapid report – louder than anything else that filled the neighborhood – tore through the air. It was one of a sniper rifle, and Peggy saw one of the Spetsnaz members topple over onto the sidewalk.

The soldier was bleeding from a wound and was not dead. Peggy took the opportunity to duck out and fired her rifle for a brief spat. The soldier died under the hail of gunfire from both her and Michael, before Peggy and her brother ducked back into cover.

Two more reports, inaccurate, but enough to drive two more Spetsnaz from their hiding place, sang through the air. Just as Thompson winged one, while Peggy popped up and peppered the area where she had last seen the other two enemy forces closest to her position.

Michael had taken the opportunity to fire at the other soldier briefly driven out, before ducking back into cover. That soldier too, was wounded, but Thompson traded more gunfire with the wounded one. Another report of sniper fire on the initial one Thompson had wounded, downed the Spetsnaz soldier.

Three down, two to go.

Yet, no matter how many times both she, along with Thompson and Michael traded gunfire with the remaining two, the enemy soldiers seemed entrenched in their position. Any attempt by the three of them to try to crawl up to a better position was met with a spray of bullets – forcing them back to their original positions.

Even Natasha’s sniper rifle fire was not forcing the two out – that is, until Peggy heard the tell-tale noise of something whistling by—

“Incoming!” Michael shouted, just as Peggy was pulled to the ground.

Even though Michael had thrown himself over her, air was still forced out of her lungs. The explosion sent the car that the two remaining Spetsnaz soldiers had taken shelter in, high up into the sky. The shock wave rippled through the neighborhood, but thankfully did not shatter windows.

Peggy caught a glimpse of Natasha’s signature red hair disappearing from another rooftop. She looked towards Michael, who had a slightly startled look – amazed as she was that Natasha had sent a mortar, or whatever she had done with an explosive, that far with accuracy.

“I’m all right,” Peggy shouted, nodding as Michael glanced down at her for a moment before lifting himself off of her.

Her ears were still ringing, but signaling to Thompson told her that there were no immediate danger. Slowly, both she and Michael carefully crept forward, before sprinting across to Thompson’s position.

Rather than shout, Thompson pointed towards where he thought additional gunfire had been coming from. But before they could attempt to steal a car to get to another scene, a car with a rotating siren attached to the top of it turned the corner – about two hundred yards from where they were.

It was Agent Marshall and his team. They slipped to a stop in the slippery snow, near the remains of the burning car and dead bodies of the two Spetsnaz soldiers. Marshall was shouting something, but Peggy’s ears were still ringing – along with it seemed, Thompson and Michael’s as well.

Both she and Thompson signaled to Marshall, who signaled back after a moment. It was the all-clear. Two more Spetsnaz had been killed by another team three blocks away, making it seven dead total. Three had been captured, but of the others, the rest apparently got away.

Thompson then signaled for Marshall and his team to follow the three of them. They slowly headed back towards the Brooklyn facility – wary that even if the all-clear was given, and the remaining fifteen Spetsnaz had gotten away, there was still always the chance for a counter-attack.

When they got to the facility entrance, Peggy glanced up, but did not see anyone up there. Thompson moved all of them to the roadside – word of the facility being biologically contaminated had spread fast at Headquarters. If someone was watching, it was clear that they had passed word that several SSR agents were outside.

Soon, the door to the ‘Stark Film Casting and Production Company’ opened. In the dim lights that remained in this area, Peggy saw that it was Sousa. Her friend looked quite ill, even with as dim of an illumination as it was. He was shouting something—

Peggy saw that Marshall was signaling towards Thompson as to what Sousa was saying. But then stopped after a half-minute. Sousa had most likely lost his voice, given that he was now using short-hand Army signals to communicate the status of the facility.

At Thompson’s surprising deference to her, Peggy stepped up, and signaled her orders to Sousa. Daily contact with Headquarters, if possible, by any member of the 107th or Sousa, or Li. Following the breaking of fever and symptoms, an additional one-week quarantine period.

She could see Marshall translating her signals for all the other agents to hear, before she saw him signal that supplies would be delivered daily and left at the door. She nodded in agreement.

It was the only way they could hope to contain whatever had happened in the facility. There was nothing that she could do for Steve – except hope that perhaps he wasn’t as affected as the others. Howard was already in the facility, but the SSR would have their best medical people working on possible vaccines or cures.

The clandestine operation to vet Michael as the Wolf Spider, the equally clandestine time-travel operation, and now, Spetsnaz within the city, that was just on Brooklyn alone. God only knew how many other operations Headquarters had been pulled into since the report of a successful test of a Soviet nuclear weapon late last year.

Peggy hoped that no other threats would rear their heads; the SSR already had too much on their plates.

* * *

_Morning, February 20 th, 1949…_

“Hey, Buck,” Steve gently called out.

Less than a second later, his best friend blinked awake, shifting from the half-ready position he had fallen asleep in, to full readiness with one swift motion. Bucky had fallen asleep with his rifle tucked against his shoulder, and head bowed with his back against the wall.

Steve had learned during the war that when Bucky slept like that, it was not a good idea to reach out and wake him with a shake. Fortunately, it had been Morita who had warned him, but to instead call out. Jones had followed up with an agreement, muttering about something that happened during training.

He never found out what it was, and he never dared as Bucky about it. The Howling Commandos had all been wired tight during the war. It was a vice they had to live with, and Steve knew that even now, most of the 107th had fallen back to their old ways during the war.

Steve hadn’t wanted that for any of the men who guarded this facility. But, it was not his place to say or complain. These were the 107th – they knew what they were signing up for, even with the twists and turns this entire Brooklyn Facility had taken in the past few months.

“Peggy and the others will be here in a few minutes,” Steve said as he saw the killer instinct in Bucky’s eyes quickly die. “Probably going to get busy after that. You wanna go say goodbye to your family before that? Don’t want the paperwork and everything.”

“They’re letting us out?” Bucky asked, shifting as he stood up from his crouched stance to sling the rifle over his shoulder. Others of the 107th passed by, looking healthy – as if none had been touched by the illness.

“Two weeks,” Steve stated, getting up from his crouch at the same time Bucky did. “No resurgence of fever. Everyone is looking and moving like their usual selves. Tony’s scanners aren’t picking stuff up.”

“Didn’t feel like two weeks,” Bucky said. “Others?” he then questioned.

“Michael and Lorraine,” Steve answered. “Headquarters is tied up with the investigation into the shootout.”

Both he and Bucky had been taking shifts to monitor and administer care to those locked in the base for the past two weeks. Vera and Natalie had helped as well, but Steve had tasked them to care more for their own family than the rest of the 107th, or Howard and Jarvis. Supplies dropped off at the front of the building by Peggy or others in the SSR were picked up by Sousa. Sousa looked to be the least affected out of the 107th and SSR agents stationed in Brooklyn.

It was only because Steve didn’t want word of who else was in the base – namely Bucky’s family, and Dottie Underwood – that he made sure if anyone was observing the comings and goings, they would only see known SSR and 107th personnel.

Analyses conducted by Sousa, Li, and surprisingly by members of Bucky’s family of the past few weeks, detailing the activities of Soviet agents within the city, detailed that there was a good chance that none had seen the Barnes family enter the SSR building.

It was the reason why Steve wanted Vera and her family to leave before Peggy and the others got here. They did not need to be tangled up in the red tape – or the complexities of Brooklyn’s operations.

As for the analyses on the operation that Bucky was conducting on the Wolf Spider – that briefing had been given in more private audience. Vera, along with Dottie, and broken down to both him and Bucky, about the potential activities and operations in the past few weeks that could point to Michael to being Wolf Spider. It included the fact that Ivchenko was alive and potentially the orchestrator behind the entire thing.

It chilled Steve to think how closely orchestrated the Soviet incursion operation – if it was to support Wolf Spider – had been. Yet, there was no solid evidence. Until Peggy or someone at Headquarters returned with recordings, or even RF spikes data that pointed to phone usage or otherwise, evidence was scant.

Michael was just too good of an agent to be caught unawares. Bucky had pointed that out with first hand experience at just how clever and careful Michael was. Bugging him was impossible – he had gadgets created by the joint MI-5 and MI-6 engineering team to sweep and detect those bugs. They were the same devices used and distributed to the SSR via the joint SSR-Europe and MI-5 agreement.

Brooklyn and even Headquarters hadn’t had a lot more advance devices. Tony, Howard, and David had all been concentrating so much on the security and safety of the time-jump apparatus, and facility that none created anything new in terms of espionage field gadgets.

At present, all Steve could do was make sure that Vera and her family disappeared into the city without a trace or eyes on them. There was nothing they could do about the final Widow. But careful observations by the rest of the Barnes family when they ventured out for a breath of fresh air on the rooftops, yielded no sign of any Soviet agent within the vicinity.

The killing and arrests of Soviet agents – not to mention, the firefight – had dominated the news. Attention was on the federal agents who engaged in the firefight, but because of conditions, it was vague enough to spin a fairly good cover story.

In the middle of that, Steve had learned that Lorraine had returned. Steve could only assume that the clandestine DC operation had been successful. He was also glad that Lorraine was by Peggy’s side – his own loathing about his doubts about Michael making him both worried and angry at the same time.

Yet, there was no word from Peggy via Sousa’s daily call in, that Michael had done anything other than continue to page his contacts to look for David. Early on the two weeks, Sousa had reported that David was found.

There was no keeping that from anyone within the facility. Very little was exchanged over the emergency line anyways, but Steve knew that Peggy would have mentioned something about Michael leaving for Europe if at all.

The crux of it was that Steve opted to keep the 107th in the dark about Bucky’s operation – allowing Bucky’s vague statement of being back here in the city as a ‘case that went FUBAR’. Compartmentalization – and Steve still found it difficult, but ultimately glad that he had done so.

At present, though, it was time to let ‘normal’ operations proceed. The two-week quarantine was lifted, and Steve knew that the Barnes family were not the only ones itching to see the world again.

“I’ll make sure Philips gives you a long vacation after all of this, Bucky,” Steve said, reaching out and clasping his friend on the shoulder.

At that Bucky snorted, looking and acting much more like his old self – before the war, before indescribable burdens seemed to weigh on his shoulders. “If you can do that, punk,” he said, “you’ll be more than a national hero in my eyes.”

“I’m not right now?” Steve couldn’t help but facetiously ask.

“No way in hell,” Bucky answered shaking his head, though Steve briefly saw that Bucky’s eyes were saying something deeper – more intimate.

“You’re just still that same old skinny kid from Brooklyn who picked fights with people larger than his own size,” Bucky continued to say, as the look was replaced by the usual humor. “Most of the time, you’d win; change minds and all that. Gonna need you to use that skinny kid to get Philips to give me days off.”

Steve laughed, with Bucky joining in a few seconds later. He squeezed Bucky’s shoulder before letting go, patting him on the back.

“All right, I’ll see what I can do,” he said.

The doors to the belly of the facility opened a few seconds later, announcing the entrance of Howard with his usual rapid-fire talking already filling the air. Beside him was David, who looked better than he had been in the past two weeks. David wore the long-suffering look of an engineer who was too used to Howard’s demands.

Jarvis followed, carrying a sample that looked to be from the serum refrigerator. But as he passed Steve, he handed Steve a slightly thick folder, saying, “The latest inventory, sir.”

“Thanks, Jarvis,” Steve said, taking the folder, as Natasha and Tony appeared near the machine.

“You’re very welcome sir,” Jarvis answered. “And Captain, the new code has apparently been set by Mr. Stark’s son. He told me to tell you that it is a string you should be familiar with. Coordinates to Siberia? A code word, perhaps?”

“Yeah,” Steve said, managing to keep his expression neutral enough. “Come on,” he said, steering Bucky up the stairs. “Becca’s been bouncing at the entrance since she woke up this morning.”

“You’ll still have to file paperwork for this, won’t you?” Bucky asked as they climbed up the stairs.

“Yeah,” Steve said, nodding. “But, your mom’s been helpful to the point where she’s cut off all conversation with just a glare at DumDum or the others – if they start talking about things related to this base, the mission… anything really, about the SSR.”

“So you’re saying that DumDum and the rest of them are what… scared of my family?” Bucky asked.

Steve gave Bucky an apologetic look. “Maybe? I’m sorry.”

“But you’re not?” Bucky surprisingly asked.

“Why would I be?”

“Steve,” Bucky said, stopping at the door that would take them outside of the heart of the facility and into the rest of the facility. “My entire family are spies and assassins. If we all decided to quit our day jobs, we could open up our own private intelligence organization, and the Feds wouldn’t even notice us. You’re telling me that that doesn’t scare you?”

“Should it?” Steve asked, puzzled. Sure, he now sometimes found Bucky’s mother imposing and slightly frightening, but he could see that she only had the best interest of her family – and Bucky – at heart.

“I know your family,” he stated. “They’re good people. Doesn’t matter what they did in the past. It’s what they do now, and in the future.”

Bucky’s expression was unreadable for a few long seconds. Then he turned away, opened the door, and left.

Steve followed, making sure to lock the door with the new alpha-numeric code. As soon as it beeped, he hurried down the hall that Bucky was headed to. Becca was waiting by the entrance, dressed and ready to go. The rest of the Barnes family were in various stages of putting on their winter coats.

“Bucky!” Becca’s cry of Bucky’s name echoed up and down the halls. She ran up and leapt into Bucky’s arms. Bucky twirled her around once before setting her down, a wide smile on his face.

“Gonna be a while, huh?” Bucky asked, as Becca stepped to the side, and Vera and the rest of the family stepped forward.

Steve briefly embraced Becca himself, hearing her repeated whispered disappointment of him not being how he used to physically be again. He couldn’t help but laugh a little as she pulled away and grinned at him.

“It will,” Vera stated, reaching forward to clasp her hands over Bucky’s own. “Be well, James.”

“I’ll try, Mom,” Bucky answered.

Vera then leaned forward and whispered something into Bucky’s ears that was for him alone. There was no reaction from him as she then let go, and stepped to the side.

She clasping Steve’s hands after he tucked the folder under his arm, in the same manner as she had done to Bucky’s own. “And you as well, Steven,” she said.

“I will, ma’am,” Steve answered.

“No longer frail, but still the heart of everything,” he heard her murmur ever so softly to him. “Thank you, for giving us shelter, Steven. And, for watching over my son.” She let go, and stepped back.

The rest of the farewells were primarily reserved for Bucky, though Steve did get an ever curious look from Natalie. In the two weeks that she had stayed here, she had remained primarily with her family.

Steve had seen her occasionally slip out of Bucky’s old room, which had been converted into a general purpose room after Bucky had ‘left’. She often found her way to where Bucky was in the facility, except whenever Bucky was behind the secured door. Bucky always made sure to return Natalie to her family as soon as she arrived at his side though.

Steve hadn’t asked Natasha what her counterpart was doing, but the behavior displayed seemed a lot like a lost kitten or cat. He did remember Natasha mentioning that her younger self had seen Bucky as her new ‘Aloysha’, but even then, it was strange behavior by Natalie.

Goodbyes completed, the family left. Steve didn’t follow them out, and neither did Bucky. They stood there, near the entrance in silence for a few long moments—

“They’re good people, Agent Barnes,” Dottie’s unexpected comment startled both of them.

She was leaning against the adjacent wall to the hall. Steve never got a good read on her, due to her remaining with Bucky’s family in relative isolation, rather than with the 107th.

He didn’t blame her for doing so. Considering what chaos she had caused as a Soviet agent, trust between her and Sousa, along with Li was tenuous at best.

But, she was a turned agent, a commissioned federal agent assigned to SSR-Europe. Bucky had simply stated that she had been helping him in his ‘case that went FUBAR’. She had gone with the bare basics of that cover story. Even David had not said much in response.

“When this is all settled, and when they find a new place to live, please pass on my thank you to them for sheltering me,” Dottie stated.

“I will,” Bucky surprisingly answered in a cordial tone.

Whatever differences or clashes the two had had with each other – especially from what Steve remembered of the rooftop briefing a few days ago – was gone. Yet, he could tell that the two were not friends, just merely colleagues. Similar to how Bucky interacted with Lorraine nowadays.

“I’ll be on the floor,” Bucky said after a moment, glancing over at Steve. “Let me in, please?”

“Yeah, sure thing,” Steve said, returning to the door.

After showing Bucky the code to get in and out, Bucky entered, and closed it, locking it from within. Steve was about to head to his room that had been re-purposed as a common sleeping area for the 107th – to at least get some quiet to read over the inventory – he caught Dottie still standing there, staring at him.

“May I help you, Agent?” he asked. There was a slight uncomfortable feeling to the look she was giving him, as if she were the embodiment of a spider – of her call sign as this era’s Black Widow.

“No,” she answered, tilting her head ever so slightly. “Just wondering to myself why you never chose to marry any from the Barnes family. They all clearly love you, brotherly or otherwise, and yet…”

“Then I’ll leave you to your musings, Agent,” Steve answered.

He brushed past her, and thankfully, she didn’t follow. When he entered the room, Sousa was sitting at the table, and looked up.

“Hey, need the place back, Cap?” Sousa asked.

Steve snorted in slight laughter as he sat opposite of the agent. “Probably not. One more stone to return, and then its over.”

“You get to go home,” Sousa answered, nodding.

Steve glanced down at the folder, before looking back up. He didn’t know what was going to happen once he returned the Soul Stone. Would he be able to remain in 1949 with Peggy and Bucky? Or would he be forced to return to 2023, even though he would be reunited with another iteration of Bucky who had let him go—

“Yeah,” he answered after a moment. “It’s—”

“Hard, I know,” the agent said, misinterpreting his quietness. “But at least you’ll have the life of anonymity again. I see why you were hesitant to tell any of us, or read us into the operation—”

“Hey,” the radio that sat between them crackled with DumDum’s voice. “Carter sibs and good ol’ Lorraine have arrived.”

“Two weeks,” Sousa said, getting up. “It’ll be good to see all of them again,”

Steve nodded and followed Sousa out. Reuniting with Peggy brought a burst of happiness in his heart, though that was tempered not only by the fact that they were in relative public, but also Michael’s presence.

However, as Steve held Peggy and ignored the cat-calls of DumDum and his friends to kiss her, he noticed that Michael had merely nodded to him. His brother-in-law headed towards the entrance to the main floor.

“Door code’s been changed, Agent Carter,” Dottie called out, stepping out from where she had been watching the reunions happen.

“Dottie,” Peggy warmly greeted. “I was informed by Chief Philips that you’ve joined SSR-Europe.”

“I have,” Dottie answered. “I was assigned to help Agent Barnes with his case. Brought us back here. Right place, wrong time. We did strangely find the engineer, David Brewster, being snatched away…”

As Peggy and Dottie continued to chat, it was then that Steve noticed that Lorraine’s sharp eyes were not on either Peggy or Dottie, but on Michael. Steve realized that she most likely had been read into some portion of the Wolf Spider operation.

“But first,” Peggy’s declaration drew Steve’s attention back onto his wife. “I unfortunately, have been told by Thompson that all of you must fill out the paperwork—”

Groans accompanied Peggy’s announcement. Even Steve gave her a slightly puzzled look as Lorraine pulled out several stacks of folders and duly handed them out to each person present except for those who were at Headquarters during the crisis.

“Me included?” Steve asked, taking the folder.

“Yes,” Peggy answered. “Philips wants to know how it affected you, since Sousa reported that you were wearing a helmet. We’ll come up with something to make sure that your name isn’t there—”

“Pegs,” DumDum complained, drawing Peggy’s attention away. “These questions are really erm, personal…”

Steve silently signaled to her that he would talk to her later, and that he would be sitting in his converted room. She nodded once, and Steve stepped away. Outside of the hubbub that the 107th were causing around Peggy and Lorraine, Steve ran into Michael.

“Michael,” he greeted in a neutral tone. He still remembered the sting of Michael’s punch when his brother-in-law learned what he had done to Bucky and Peggy.

“Steve,” Michael answered, chilly.

In an even chillier tone, Michael said, “Agent Underwood.” That brought Dottie’s eyes briefly up, as had been looking at the contents of her folder with some amusement.

“Good to see both of you are doing well,” Michael continued after a moment.

“Thank you,” Steve said. “I’ll let you into the facility later, if that’s all right with you. Bucky’s down there, and so are Howard, David, and Jarvis. Howard and David are working on some sensitive items at the moment.”

“That’s fine,” Michael stiffly stated, before turning and walking away.

“Trouble with the in-laws?” Dottie questioned, raising an elegant eyebrow.

Bucky may have come to some understanding with Dottie, but Steve still could not get a read on the former Soviet agent. He settled for shaking his head at her, and headed to his converted room.

Sitting down, he pulled both the inventory folder and the one requesting medical details about their experiences with the biological contaminant, forward. He sighed, but didn’t flip the folders open just yet.

“Do you want me to try to negotiate with Philips to give you some time to recover from all of this before announcing the raising of SHIELD?”

Peggy’s soft question from the doorway drew his attention from his mindless staring at the two folders. The noise in the halls had died down considerably.

Steve wondered just how long he had been sitting there, staring at the folders.

She stepped in and approached, slipping into the seat opposite of him. Clasping her hands over his own, she squeezed them gently, but didn’t let go. Instead, she wound and weaved their fingers together, holding them there.

“No,” he answered. “But thanks.”

She nodded once. A few moments later, she untangled their fingers and sat back. “Have you seen Michael? He isn’t at the lockers, kitchenette, or anywhere else,” Peggy questioned, puzzled. “Lorraine said she hasn’t seem him leave. Dottie can’t find him either.”

Steve shook his head. Yet, an uneasy feeling crept over him as he got up and went to the window that overlooked into the heart of the facility.

Pushing back the curtain, he saw Howard and David working near the platform. Tony was at the prototype arc reactor; Natasha standing next to him. The two looked to be deep in conversation. Bucky was no where to be seen…

“Bucky’s not down there either…” Steve began, dropping the curtain as his unease grew.

~~~

“I feel as if there are a lot more scrutinizing eyes on me than before.”

Bucky looked up from where he was leaning against the back wall of the structure that housed the entrance-exit into the facility via rooftop. The cigarette resting in between his right index and middle fingers hadn’t even burned half-way down yet.

Michael’s comment startled him, but he hid it easily enough. It puzzled him as to why he hadn’t heard him exit through the door, or the crunch of his feet on the half-melted snow. But, Bucky pushed it to the side.

Silently, he raised his right hand, holding the cigarette out for Michael to take. It was the brand that he knew Michael liked to smoke from time to time. It was all Bucky could do to ease what was coming.

Unsurprisingly, Michael did not take the cigarette, and instead, stepped over to lean against the same brick wall, adopting a similar stance. It was a deliberate move on Michael’s part, positioning himself to his left.

Calculated.

Bucky dropped his arm, but didn’t let the cigarette go. He knew Michael saw the gun in his left metal hand. Had seen him briefly take in – eyes roaming up and down – his appearance: the Winter Soldier outfit sans face mask and glasses. And yet, the MI-5 agent did not move away, and merely folded his arms across his chest.

“You know why,” he softly stated in answer to Michael's comment.

“Then why haven’t any of them arrested me? Taken me in? Why are you letting me roam free in your base albeit with eyes on my every move, knowing what you know?” Michael asked.

Bucky remained silent for a few long seconds. He needed those seconds to compose himself, to master the roiling sea that bubbled with betrayal, hurt, and disbelief. He needed the seconds to bring in the ice-cold calm that was the Winter Soldier – to lock everything down.

“If you can hear me, Michael,” he quietly said, “I did care—”

“You never did,” Michael stated, interrupting him. “There’s nothing left of the Michael Carter you thought you knew, when you killed him that morning on December 31st. You knew the phrase, you knew that it would cause a ‘death of personality’, and yet, you invoked it. Everything I know, I know from his reports – his experiences – but not from _himself_.”

Michael paused for a moment before stating in a cold, hard tone, “You never cared about Michael Carter. You’re incapable of it, Winter Soldier.”

Out of the corner of his eyes, Bucky saw Michael glance over sharply. There was nothing in his eyes – a blankness that seemed to echo within his own heart. A Wolf Spider who had spun the web of deceit and betrayal, and now, seemed oddly ready to face judgment.

“Why haven’t _I_ been arrested?” Wolf Spider demanded. “Don’t tell me it’s sentiment from Agent Carter and the others.”

Bucky dropped the cigarette and squashed it out with a heel. “You have two options,” he said, pushing up from the wall. “Go back down, and face arrest and imprisonment, or physically die by my hand, here and now.”

In one smooth motion, the Winter Soldier brought up the gun in his left hand, stepped out and faced the Wolf Spider. His entire body was unwavering and still like an iced-over lake. The whir of his metal left arm and hand that gripped the gun was soft against the noise of the city. The tip of the barrel of the gun was inches away from the Wolf Spider’s forehead.

The unflinching, empty eyes of the Wolf Spider met his own. “Then,” Wolf Spider bitterly smiled. “Желан—“

The Winter Soldier fired.

~*~*~*~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So ends The Machination arc. With one more stone to be returned, we're getting close to the endgame...and will begin the final arc, Thunder.


	31. Thunder - Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Theme: '[Thunder](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QG_2ooaB7rk)' by Ninja Tracks.

**C** **hapter 2** **6** **:** **Thunder – Part 1**

The sound of gunfire echoing within the stairwell was deafening.

Peggy raced up the stairs, with Steve following and then over taking her. Even as he burst out into the cold mid-morning, she was hot on his heels. The immediately rooftop and all the way out towards the usual perch that the 107th took on watch was empty, but Steve was already dashing to the other side of the brick structure that housed the stairwell.

She skidded to the stop, grabbing onto Steve to not slip on the slippery rooftop. Bucky – no, Peggy saw the Winter Soldier. Cold, blank-eyed, frightening with the demeanor he gave off.

The Winter Soldier was standing a couple of feet away from the brick wall, left arm up and gun within the metal hand of his held steady. A faint trail of smoke issued from the tip of the barrel of his gun…

… and the bullet that had been fired embedded within the wall—

“Where’s Michael?” Steve’s whisper broke the silence.

The Winter Soldier flicked his ice-cold, dark ocean-like eyes at them. Peggy couldn't help but physically flinch at the look. She had never seen Bucky like this before. It scared her. At the same time, in the back of her mind, she now knew why he wore the glasses and face mask the first time Steve told them about Bucky’s alias from the future.

“Bucky,” Steve softly said.

A blink of those coldly murderous-looking eyes of his, and it was over. Gone was the blank expression and look, replaced by that of confusion. Peggy saw Bucky’s eyes widening a fraction, arm waver ever so slightly—

“Fuck!” Bucky swore, snapping his eyes to the brick wall. “He was _right here_ —”

“And thanks to your actions these past few weeks, Winter Soldier, Captain Rogers, and Agent Carter, I find that my premature departure was justified,” Michael’s voice said from behind them.

They turned, only to see him standing at the corner of the rooftop. He looked the same—

“Those swords were not the only thing that the Soviet Union recovered from Tønsberg, after HYDRA’s invasion, were they?” Steve asked, taking a step forward, as Bucky raised his gun again.

“Technology that I expect that you would be familiar with, Captain,” Michael stated, looking quite calm and composed at the fact that Bucky had his gun pointed at him again.

“My only regret is not remaining until the end – to see your journey to return the stones through. It wouldn’t have gained anything, but I suspect that once the Soul Stone is returned, your friends won’t be there to help you anymore, Captain. You’ll be stuck, just like the rest of us, in this God-forsaken world. Held hostage between two countries on the brink of nuclear war—”

“Which you do not have to be a part of, or even help accelerate it, Michael—” Steve stated.

“Michael, please! Don’t do this!” Peggy pleaded. “Whatever they did – we can help! Please, let us help you—”

“I was told that I only had two options – well, one really. That that was already expended,” Michael interrupted, eyes flicking towards Bucky. “I know how I’m truly seen here.”

“Bucky was under orders—” Steve began.

“Which none of you saw fit to reverse or stop,” Michael pointed out. “For whatever I had done, does my life mean so little to you?”

Peggy felt anguish overwhelm her. Every word he was speaking was true – that she knew and concluded that Philips had ordered Bucky to assassinate Michael if evidence presented itself. And instead of trying to convince Philips to cancel or reverse the order, she and Steve tried to find evidence for Michael’s freedom.

She had treated her older brother like a dead man walking – had given up hope for his complete freedom, when she hadn’t done to the same to Bucky. She had selfishly chosen to believe Steve’s insistence that Bucky was sound of mind, that—

“If you hope to seed doubts into our minds, you’ve failed, Wolf Spider.”

The unexpected growl from Steve caused a shiver to crawl down Peggy’s spine. Fury unlike anything she had seen before enveloped Steve’s expression. Yet, there was a sort of calm dissonance that she saw in his eyes – of a control that was eerily similar to how she had initially taken in Bucky as the Winter Soldier. She realized that they truly were two sides of a coin; where either of them could have become the Soviet’s deadliest asset.

“And if you hope to catch me, you can’t, Captain,” Michael stated, before turning his attention back to Bucky. “Before I leave, I do believe I owe it to you to give you my thanks for confirming one last thing. You know them. The commands. And they don’t work on you anymore, Winter Soldier.”

Peggy blinked – Michael had suddenly disappeared from the corner of the rooftop.

“Where—” she began, looking around, before running to the edge. She peered down, but there was no sign that her brother had jumped.

“Asgardian technology, or majick, as Thor sometimes called it,” Steve softly stated. “Tony?”

His words were almost drowned out by the harsh whine that spooled up, followed by a yell of rage and anguish. Peggy turned around just in time to see Bucky punch the brick wall several times with his metal fist. Frustration and anger were plainly displayed on Bucky’s expression as he screamed.

Steve didn’t move from where he was, and was watching Bucky with a sad expression on his face. Tony had appeared, and looked back and forth between the two before focusing his attention on Steve.

Peggy approached, hoping to calm Bucky down, but Steve held out an arm. He silently shook his head. She leaned into his side, as he tucked a comforting arm around her. She barely heard Steve’s words to Tony to scan the area for any unusual frequencies or objects, as she turned her head into his chest.

She shivered against the howls coming from Bucky. Steve wrapped both of his comforting around her, but she wasn’t warmed at all. Instead, she only felt the cold of her own tears slipping down her face.

* * *

_Nightfall…_

Steve knocked on the door to the room that had been Bucky’s room when he had stayed here for the past few months. It was the only place where he hadn’t looked yet.

Just before Lorraine had left with Peggy to go to Headquarters, she had indicated that she hadn’t seen Bucky leave the facility at all. Neither had Dottie, Howard, or the others.

The 107th remained, with more than a few relieved to swap out duties with their fellow teammates. But word of Michael’s betrayal was already known throughout the entire facility.

It was a secret that none of them could keep. Not after the spectacular disappearance of the former MI-5 agent. Tony’s intense scans, augmented by David’s careful calibrations of the arc reactor to augment Howard’s prototype sonograph for a spectrum of frequencies, had yielded the devices that had enabled Michael to appear and disappear at will.

2023 didn’t have the technology, but Steve suspected that the tiny micro-dot like thing that had been placed all over the walls, ceilings, floors – embedded everywhere – was how Loki was able to perform some of his ‘illusions’. It certainly explained Michael’s appearance, lack of interaction with objects since arriving, and sudden disappearance.

While not a holographic projection – at least not like the technology that Steve was used to seeing from Tony’s gadgets, where it came from certainly pointed to where the swords had come from. As much information as Michael had gathered, Steve was genuinely surprised that the lone scouting Widow who had flitted in and out of the main floor during the night of the sixteen Widows’ attack, had not taken the Tesseract.

It was the only thing that remained; the other time-jump suit, along with a packet of his blood, stolen. Those were the only two objects that had been marked unaccounted for in Howard and Jarvis’ report.

No one blamed the two for not connecting the dots. There was reasonable assumption that Steve could have used another packet of blood to make doubly sure that the radiation poisoning was gone. Or that Howard was slightly scatterbrained enough to have miscounted the amount of packs left for his serum recreation.

As for the other time-jump suit, it had been tossed to the side, and assumed to be contaminated with radiation. Burying it, or kicking it somewhere else was a fair explanation. No one wanted to be exposed to radiation.

But to leave the Tesseract alone…

Steve shook his head, clearing his current train of thoughts. He knocked again. There was still no answer.

“Bucky?” he questioned.

He waited two seconds – silence.

“Bucky, it’s Steve,” he tried again, this time turning the door knob. “I’m coming in—”

Steve stepped in, and stopped short, only to come face-to-face with the curtains in the room completely drawn, lights in the room partially flicked on, and worse yet – the entire place wrecked. He quickly closed the door behind him, not wanting those who remained in the facility to see this.

Broken shelves, pieces of wood, paper, books, mattress stuffing, even some bent and wrenched frames laid strewn about. What had been a converted room to house multiple people sleeping in the same area, was now just a chaotic mess of debris.

Sitting in the middle of it was Bucky, cross-legged, with a nearly empty bottle of vodka next to him on his right. The glass that Steve assumed most likely held vodka was tipped over and empty. An ashtray, cigarette pack, and lighter sat on Bucky’s left. There was clearly a cigarette burning in the tray.

Center most was the rectangular brick that contained the 2012 information. It was active, and was resting on a file that Steve couldn’t quite see from his vantage point.

“Come to tell me to look on the bright side, Steve?”

Bucky’s tone was derisive, mocking, and harsh. Yet, Steve did not let any of it affect him – he understood just a little about how his best friend was feeling. Considering the state of the room, and what he was now doing – and had done – there was a lot to unpack.

“No,” he answered, gingerly approaching. He stopped before Bucky and asked, “May I sit?”

Bucky ignored him, and reached out to tap the cigarette. Ash fell onto the tray, but Bucky didn’t bother to bring the cigarette up to his lips to smoke it.

Steve sat, just as Bucky said, “These were his favorite brand. He liked to smoke them from time-to-time. Smell is not too bad, he always tasted like an ashtray after smoking them.”

“Did you ever tell him that?” Steve gently asked.

“No,” Bucky said, shaking his head, but did not elaborate.

“Then why are you burning the pack?” Steve asked, picking up the carton. There were only three sticks left, and the pile of ashes in the tray looked fairly full.

“Vigil. Sentiment,” Bucky stated, plucking the pack from his hands and setting it back down. “Fuck sentiment. What do boys… men usually do when they’re a wreck? When they’ve failed in their job, duty… in life? Are we even supposed to ever admit that? Fuck society. What the hell am I supposed to do, now?”

Steve opened his mouth to answer, but snapped it shut. It was not his place to say a word at the moment. This was Bucky, his best friend, the one he promised to be there forward and together. The one who was _not_ asking for advice, despite the rhetorical questions.

“Cry?” Bucky continued to murmur derisively to himself. “That’s stupid. Suicide? That’s even more ridiculous – I want revenge. I can’t get revenge if I kill myself. Forget? Can’t get fucking drunk, even with the strongest alcohol the store was selling. Don’t wanna smoke because of my Daddy issues. Fucking mess because I can’t even properly assassinate—fuck!”

The whine of Bucky’s arm was incredibly harsh and loud. His left hand was balled up into a fist, and was pressed against the floor. But Bucky did not punch through the floor like he almost demolished half of the wall that housed the stairwell.

Steve leaned forward and reached out, slowly. He wrapped both of his hands around Bucky’s metal one. In Bucky’s current state, he knew that there was an extremely high chance that in one motion, Bucky could not only break both of his arms, but potentially snap his neck back.

But he embraced the risk; and held his hands there.

He didn’t say a word, nor offer anything closer than what he did now. He focused his gaze on his hands, curled around Bucky’s metal one, and listened to the whine and whir, ebb and flow. Up and down, like a severely off-key musical scale.

Little by little, as the minutes passed and they continued to sit there, Steve could hear the pitch slowly die. He held himself still, ignoring the crick that had developed in his back from sitting in such an awkward position for so long.

Even with the minutes of silence that sat between them as the whine of Bucky’s metal arm died to a normal whisper, Steve continued to hold his hands around his best friend’s fist. He would not let go – not until—

Steve’s attention was suddenly drawn to Bucky’s right hand, plucking at the time-jump bracelet on Steve’s left hand. Yet, Bucky didn’t say a word, and after a moment, finally began to open his left hand.

Steve let go, and sat back, as the anger, grief, and rage in Bucky’s expression was replaced by exhaustion. It was both physical and mental – Steve could see it in his best friend’s eyes. The need to just wish or pray to God that life would stop throwing monkey wrench after monkey wrenches at him.

His heart ached for Bucky.

“Did he ever remember Michael?” Bucky suddenly asked, voice gravelly and tired.

It took Steve a moment to realize that Bucky was asking about his counterpart in 2023. The Bucky Barnes that he, Steve, had left behind. As much as he wanted to say that it didn’t matter, he held his tongue on that thought.

“I don’t know,” Steve admitted. “If he did, he never told me.”

“I bet he did,” Bucky brokenly stated, a bitter smile quirking up the edges of his lips for a brief moment. “Play the fool long enough, and everything around you starts to become real. There’s no escaping the world.”

Steve watched him carefully, reaching over to stub the cigarette out, before swiping through the 2012 files. It was the dossier on Wolf Spider – which was very little—

“I’m going to stop him.”

Steve didn’t know why he was startled by the hard, crystal-like look that Bucky gave him, when he looked up. There was absolutely nothing but conviction in Bucky’s eyes—

_Look, whoever he used to be and the guy he is now, I don’t think he’s the kind you save. He’s the kind you stop._

_I don’t know if I can do that._

_Well, he might not give you a choice. He doesn’t know you._

_He will._

“Bucky,” Steve began, as the echoes of his argument with Sam all those years ago briefly surfaced.

“And then, I’m going to save him.”

Steve blinked, not expecting those words to fall out of Bucky’s lips. The conviction that was there for when Bucky had declared that he was going to stop Michael, was the same with his declaration to save.

He nodded once in agreement.

“I killed Michael, on December 31st in the morning, when I carelessly invoked the code words that Underwood gave us,” Bucky stated, folding his hands together. “I didn’t think. I didn’t even consider the possibility that Ivchenko may have done something different to him than he did to me. I just _assumed_ that we were ‘programmed’ the same. Even after I saw it first hand in 1970, I don’t know why I kept thinking Ivchenko didn’t do something different.”

Bucky sighed, and shook his head once, before pulling forward the tape recording machine. He didn’t press the button to play it, but Steve knew what laid in that recording.

It had been the first thing David had given them, when he, along with Peggy and Bucky had finally left the rooftop, enveloped in each of their own bubble of grief. The engineer stated that the wire Bucky had been wearing had captured the confession made.

But to admit it into court would also put Bucky in grave danger.

Peggy had made the decision to let Bucky keep the recording; to do what he wanted with it. To allow him to burn it to ashes, even if they were never going to get another confession or undeniable proof that Michael Carter was the Soviet operative known as the Wolf Spider.

“He told me that the words invoked a ‘death of personality’. That everything he knew, was from his former self’s experiences and reports. I don’t think he ever wanted to be ‘the Wolf Spider’,” Bucky quietly stated, glancing down at his folded hands.

Then, Bucky unfolded his hands and looked up. Steve met those mesmerizing oceanic eyes of his unflinchingly. They were calm, but Steve could see the storm in the distance; of the arctic hurricane that swirled around that was the Winter Soldier.

“He remembers,” Steve softly stated.

“He remembers,” Bucky agreed. “And maybe… maybe there is a way to reach him after I stop—”

“We,” Steve gently interrupted, raising his right hand to cup it against Bucky’s neck and jaw. “We stop him. Then we reach out,” he said.

“We,” Bucky agreed, raising his hands and gently removed Steve’s hand from his face. But Bucky didn’t immediately let go and sandwiched his hand and between metal and flesh.

“Steve?”

It took all of his will and then some to not jump in and fully embrace Bucky at just how vulnerable he sounded. How scared and uncharacteristically doubtful Bucky was, with just the simple intonation of his name.

“I’m sorry for everything.”

There were so many things that Steve knew that Bucky was apologizing for, rightly or wrongly. Yet, he didn’t reassure him with platitudes of ‘it’s all right’, or ‘there’s nothing to forgive’. That would just cause the cycle to be restarted. To not allow them to move on—

Just like what happened between him and Bucky in 2014 – between him and the Winter Soldier. They had fought, had died, had saved, but never tried to live, fully live, without each other.

He knew that Bucky, in 2023, had let him go, to let him live on his own; as he did himself. A final farewell to the past mistakes that they had made with each other that could never be repaired. To live life the way he – they both – wanted to.

_Don’t do anything stupid while I’m gone._

_How can I? You’re taking all the stupid with you._

Steve realized he had never fully understood the gift that Bucky, in 2023, had given him – until now.

“You are forgiven, Bucky,” he said, pulling Bucky slightly towards him, as he wrapped his arm around him burying his head against Bucky’s shoulder.

Steve squeezed his eyes shut against the tears. “I forgive you, and I’m sorry, too.”

* * *

Peggy traced her hand over the edge of Steve’s shield. It had been left on the main floor after Howard, David, and Jarvis left for the day. Though Howard had initially offered up a room to stay in, in the apartment that he owned, to David, the engineer had refused. Now, Howard had reopened that offer, and David had accepted – but only temporarily.

The hotel where David and Michael had stayed was under investigation by federal agents and those from MI-5. The SSR’s involvement was only to assist as necessary—

“I’m sorry for your loss, Agent Carter.”

Peggy spun around, letting go of the shield. Natasha was standing near the table that held the folder of Steve’s sketches, with a solemn expression upon her face. Her hands were clasped behind her back in a respectful manner.

“Thank you,” Peggy answered.

The grief of losing her brother like that still weighed heavily upon her, but she had found that in briefing Thompson and Philips – via phone – about what happened, helped ease it. Objectively, as she briefly summarized the events that led up to what happened on the rooftop, the signs of her brother being turned, had been there.

Subtle, but still there.

Yet, there were also plenty of doubt sown about the signs that had been shown. But word still had to go out to the entire joint US-British intelligence community. A lot more than just SSR operations, agents, and methodology had been compromised. MI-5 was compromised as well, and Michael’s defection possibly involved or extended to MI-6’s activities.

But it was not up to her to determine just how they should – if they could – rebuilt the entire infrastructure. The DC operations were a success, but Lorraine hadn’t commented much on it – if at all. All Peggy had received was confirmation that the blackmail files had been destroyed.

Philips wanted to bring SHIELD into the light. But with just how jagged and large of a hole that had been torn within the SSR, trust was a commodity that Peggy didn’t know if they had anymore.

All it pointed to was the fact that it was more imperative that her husband – Captain Steve Rogers, Captain America – be thrust back into the limelight. No matter how tired Steve was, from fighting.

No matter how much heartache he had seen from living in harrowing times in the future. No matter how much he did not want to uphold his end of the bargain made with Philips.

Because Peggy knew that Steve would never break a promise made.

“Have you seen Steve?” she asked.

“He’s with James,” Natasha answered.

Peggy glanced down at her hands, before reaching up to pull at the wedding ring that hung around her neck and under her blouse. Despite everyone in the facility knowing that she and Steve were married – happily, most presumed – she still kept to her habits. After what she had done – forced her husband to do – she didn’t know if she even deserved to be married to the most wonderful man in the world.

All for a chance, a hope, a selfish want for Michael to be innocent.

“Ah,” was all she answered.

Natasha didn’t say anything for a few long moments but Peggy could sense that she wanted to comment on something regarding the relationship between her and Steve. Or possible Steve and Bucky. The former SHIELD agent, after all, seemed more like a sister to Steve than anything else.

“What is it, Agent Romanov?” she asked.

“You did you best,” Natasha stated. “You all did you best with what you knew. Even I was hoping for a different outcome than what I remembered of the Wolf Spider.”

“But some things aren’t ever meant to be, are they?” Peggy questioned, though it was more rhetorical than anything else.

“James won’t give up on him, Agent Carter,” Natasha stated. “Neither will Steve. And neither should you. Ivchenko is still alive. That’s better than most other realities and iterations.”

“There is hope?” Peggy asked.

“Possibly,” Natasha answered. “It will take time.”

“And you’ll not be here to see it,” she concluded. “Steve will have to return the stone soon, won’t he?”

Natasha nodded once, sagely. “I can’t describe it too well, but it’s like a _call_ , to return. It’s why Tony, Bruce, and I aren’t in the stone right now. We don’t want to drag Steve to Vormir, until he’s ready. And right now, he isn’t.”

“What dangers will he encounter there?” Peggy questioned, worried as she went over and opened the folder to see if Steve had any sketches that were related to the Soul Stone.

“None of us know,” Natasha said, shaking her head.

Silence fell between them for a few long minutes as Peggy flipped through the sketches. The fantastical, awe-inspiring costumed individuals – Avengers, enemies, and allies alike made her dizzy. To think that there was a group – an army of people gathered under the command of her husband and his friends, to defend the galaxy from threats – she still couldn’t believe it.

“We may not have talked much, and I may not know you as well as I do James, but might I suggest that you spend some time with Steve tonight? It may be a long while before—”

“—any of us shall see peace, or rest again,” Peggy finished, closing the folder.

She knew what Natasha meant; remembering the memory that they had seen of the promise made between her and Steve – to get a life. It was to live – something that Natasha could no longer do, and was doing so through Steve.

Nodding her thanks, Peggy then left. As she gingerly walked up the stairs and locked the main floor’s door behind her, she turned down the hall that would lead to the room where Bucky had been holed up in the entire day.

She pressed her ear to the door but couldn’t hear any shouts or conversations. Knocking gently, there was no answer. Peggy knocked again and waited for an answer before quietly opening the door.

What she saw was a chaotic room – full of broken furniture, splintered pieces of wood, tufts of bedding, and even a few bent metal pieces. It was clear that Bucky had completely destroyed everything within the room.

Yet, a space had been cleared out. Sitting up against the far wall, was Steve, who immediately held up a finger to his lips when she entered. Bucky – looking like a complete mess – was curled up and leaning against Steve’s left, fast asleep. Steve had his left arm wrapped protectively around him, fingers gently stroking Bucky’s cheek.

Despite everything, Peggy’s heart ached. Not because of jealousy, but because just how miserable Bucky looked – even in sleep. That for all of his confidence, his actions taken, his convictions, and calm in the storm – James Barnes was still wholly human.

Michael had not only broken her own heart, he had shattered Bucky’s, and stomped on Steve’s as well.

Spotting a fairly intact blanket thrown into the corner, Peggy closed the door to the room, and approached. She picked it up, and shook the debris of it as best as she could. Going over to where Steve and Bucky were, she held up the blanket.

Steve reached forward with his right, and Peggy handed him the blanket, but he didn’t take it. Instead, his hand wrapped gently around her wrist and tugged her forward slightly. It was an unspoken request – one that Peggy gladly accepted.

Kneeling down, she turned and sat against the wall, snuggling on the other side of her husband. Before Steve could drape his right arm over her, she tossed the blanket across to try to cover the three of them. Warmth, comfort, and a heavy heart full of emotion surrounded her, as she leaned her head against Steve’s chest, and felt him drape his arm around her.

For tonight, she gave him this. For tonight, her worries about her marriage, her worries about what she had done to the complicated relationship between Steve and Bucky, and her worries about her brother – now an enemy to the free world, all remained at bay.

For tonight, she was not going to worry about the future – because what she had now, was all that she could ask for.

* * *

_The next day…_

Philips had flown in to New York as soon as he could. Peggy had briefed both Thompson and Philips on a summary of what had happened. With Steve’s blessing, she had also revealed the existence of what the Brooklyn Facility really held.

And now, they, along with all members of the 107th recruited for the task, were here at the facility. Sousa, Li, Howard, Jarvis, Dottie, and David were also present. Most were wide-eyed at just what the time-jump apparatus looked like.

To everyone’s surprise, Steve had also called out Natasha and Tony, giving the bare basics of introduction to them. Banner was the only one not present, and Bucky found that to be a little relieving. He was sure that Banner could hear what was being said, but with everything being presented, the scientist’s presence would just cause a lot more questions, than answers.

The recording that David had made, had not been played to Philips or Thompson. But, Bucky offered it up as evidence. Steve, along with Peggy and David managed to contain their shock of him doing such a thing, but Bucky had seen it reflected in their eyes.

He knew the tape would condemn him as well, not only as the Winter Soldier – not the name he was carving for himself – but as the Soviet asset; but also as a homosexual. He could debate the inaccuracy of such a debasing label on himself with the judges – as he liked both women and men – but the sentence would still be the same.

But to his surprise, Lorraine had declared the recording to be a form of forced confession – inadmissible in court. That what he, Bucky, had done to confront Michael, was by means of duress. That backed into a corner because of the operations and scrutiny that he was facing, Michael confessed to be spared any harsher punishment.

Nothing was mentioned about the sanctioned action that he had taken, but it didn’t need to mentioned. Philips and Thompson knew what he was – the assassin in the ranks of the SSR. The shadowed hand that carried out orders that could not be seen in the light.

Lorraine had produced evidence – radio frequency evidence. Not from SSR phone lines, but from national lines – public lines. Her DC operation had been two fold – gather and destroy all evidence of blackmail that people in DC were holding over SSR personnel, _and_ collect any unusual RF frequency spikes.

All the spikes she had collected, had been correlated to the times where David was asleep, and Michael was actively making phone calls from phone booths dotted in and around the city. Michael had not limited himself to a radius of phone booths. The former MI-5 agent was smart enough to go to various booths, rarely using the same one each time he needed to make a call.

As for the sleep pattern of David, the engineer had had a habit of calling the concierge to take advantage of the wake up call that the hotel provided free of charge. The log books that the hotel kept of when David called down to ask for a wake up call closely matched RF spike activities that started about a half-hour to an hour later.

It was evidence. Pure evidence that would stand up in court – if Michael was ever captured.

Yet, it also told all of them just _how_ many foreign agents – not just directly Soviet, but also proxy ones – were in the United States. The RF spikes, coupled with the Widows’ attacks, and then Ivchenko and the Spetsnaz incursion, were just the tip of the iceberg.

Even without HYDRA, Soviet forces already had a strong foothold on US soil.

“We don’t know where Wolf Spider is at the moment,” Steve said.

Howard brought forward the bucket that contained every single ancient Asgardian disk that projected holograms. It was full of water, but even then, Bucky was doubtful that such technology could be deactivated by water. They only had Tony’s word and scans from his suit to go on that not one of the tiny disks was active.

“But given that Wolf Spider chose to leave in this manner, he knew that he was deliberately putting us on high alert,” Steve continued.

“Active resistance to whatever he was doing?” Philips asked.

“Possibly,” Steve answered.

“Or just more mind games for all of us,” Thompson stated. “Just to tell us and the entire intelligence community that the SSR fucked up badly enough—”

“Sir,” Steve began. Bucky could hear the beginnings of vehemence and sharpness in Steve’s tone. A sure sign that Steve was getting ready to hunker down and argue – for a very long time. “It would explain _why_ he only took a sample of my blood, and only the bracelet—”

“Which is far beyond the capabilities of this year, let alone this decade, _Captain_ ,” Thompson answered, leaning forward and bracing both hands on the table where the folder of Steve’s sketches and the bucket of Asgardian hologram projectors were kept. “We can damn well see what kind of armor the Soviets are going to produce in the future—”

“You don’t know that, sir,” Steve interrupted, raising his voice ever so slightly.

“No,” Thompson answered after a moment, eyes sharp and unrelenting. “I don’t. But neither do you. You, with your time-jumping technology—”

“Gentlemen,” Philips interrupted in his characteristic gruff tone, as if he were the commander of the SSR again.

Bucky couldn’t help but feel a sigh of relief fill him. He could visibly see the tension in the room die as well, as everyone relaxed just a hair. He didn’t think that Steve or Thompson were ever going to come to blows, but a verbal fight was not out of the question.

“Captain, by now, the Soviets will know everything that has happened here in the past few months. If that attack by the Black Widows and Spetsnaz a couple of weeks ago was any indication, they might just hit us with something that none of us know about. We can’t take that risk. Returning this Soul Stone right now is our only option,” Philips stated.

“One that would strip the SSR – this base in particular – of any protection—” Thompson began, raising his voice.

“Dude, not cool, man,” Tony spoke up before anyone else could protest. “We only built this thing here to make sure we didn’t create any other universes that are full of shit,” Tony continued, tone barely containing his anger. “We don’t serve the SSR—” Tony said, then turned his attention directly onto Philips, “nor do we serve SHIELD. Or whatever the hell you want to call your new organization after the fallout in Congress happens.”

“What new organization?” Thompson questioned, frowning.

“Point is,” Tony continued, ignoring Thompson’s question. “We don’t answer to either of you. We’re the Avengers. The team called together to stop world-threatening events, hell even galaxy-wide destruction. That includes every single different reality that we’ve been to.”

Tony paused for a moment and walked around the table. But even as briefed as he was about Tony and Natasha’s ability to ‘dust’ people, Thompson didn’t step back. Neither did Philips.

“What you have here, this Cold War… it’s nothing,” Tony stated. “Nothing compared to what can happen _if_ you try to hold Steve here hostage. You really want the deaths of trillions on your hands, Chief Thompson? Because we’ve experienced it. We _know_ how it feels to watch a galaxy full of friends, family, and loved ones die in front of our eyes.”

Thompson didn’t answer, and neither did anyone gathered on the main floor say a word. Everyone was surprised at the words that emerged from Tony’s lips. For all of what Bucky knew of the man – from both Steve’s memories, and the actions he took these past few months – it seemed that Tony cared for the law and order to protect the world, but not under the umbrella of the SSR.

“Agent Barnes.”

Bucky glanced over towards Peggy, slightly surprised at the command quality in her tone. A few others did as well, as he respectfully answered, “Ma’am?”

“Take the bracelet and return the stone,” Peggy surprisingly stated. “It seems that Chief Thompson doesn’t want to risk losing constant surveillance of Captain America—”

“Now just wait a second, Marge,” Thompson stated, incensed. “That’s slander—”

“So let Steve go, and finish his mission,” Peggy interrupted. “Brooklyn’s purpose was just that. There’s one more stone, and neither we, nor anyone else in the SSR can risk the technology here falling into enemy hands. We as a whole have been compromised on all levels, and all bases. The best option right now is to finish this mission out, and reassess what we can do. Let the information the Soviets have become stale and old.”

Bucky almost moved from where he was standing to go to Steve’s side, but the angry press of Thompson’s lips into a thin line stopped him. He saw the SSR Chief nod once, before stepping back.

Howard and David, immediately darted forward as Tony went over to help prepare the time-jump apparatus for the final jump. Howard had also barked orders for a couple of the 107th to help hook up lead lines and the like to prepare the device for destructive detonation.

It was a controlled chaos.

Bucky brushed past Peggy and Steve, both of whom were quietly talking to Natasha about where she wanted her body to be possibly buried – if Steve was able to recover it from 2014. He slipped behind the apparatus and stopped before the Tesseract

“What are you doing Barnes?” Philips asked.

Bucky deliberately ignored his commander and picked up the Tesseract with his left hand. It sizzled against his glove, but not for long as he deposited it into the case that Tony had constructed during the two-week quarantine period. He had watched the inventor manipulate the Widows’ ‘cleaned’ blades into a casing that was able to hold and contain the powers of the Tesseract.

“Trying to prevent the deaths of trillions,” Bucky simply stated, locking the case.

“That’s SSR property—” Philips began.

“No, that’s technically mine,” Howard interrupted, while continuing to do final checks and preparation on the device. “I found it. I’m just letting the SSR borrow it.”

A moment later, as Howard came around to the other side of the device, Bucky followed, but stopped next to Steve. Handing the case to Steve, it was Howard who surprisingly stated, “Michael, Wolf Spider, whatever the hell you want to call him – didn’t take the Tesseract. That tells me that he knows, or believes Steve’s story about the future. That if we keep this here, we have less than seventy years to prepare for a fight that the entire galaxy will lose.”

“But you don’t know that,” Thompson pointed out. “For all we know, we can use the Tesseract to create weapons—”

“Whoa, hey, sir,” DumDum surprisingly spoke up. “No offense, but we’re _not_ HYDRA.”

“Not HYDRA weapons,” Thompson amended, looking sufficiently chastised. “But maybe something defensive—”

“Which then can possibly be exploited to use in an offensive manner, sir,” Sousa stated, shaking his head slightly. “Sir… what I’ve seen happen for these past few weeks… months… As amazing and fantastical as it is, it’s frightening.”

“With respect sir,” Peggy spoke up. “Turning this into an arms race against the Soviet is what we should not be doing. Especially with the Tesseract – something that we, even HYDRA, could barely comprehend. We already have nuclear weapons—”

“—so let’s not make it worse, sir,” Sousa followed up.

“Looks like you’re losing this round, Chief,” Philips murmured.

“I see your point,” Thompson conceded.

Bucky saw Steve sigh and glance down for a moment at the casing around the Tesseract, before looking back up. Before Bucky could stop him from saying what he suspected Steve was going to say, Steve stepped forward.

“Chief Thompson, sir,” Steve began. “There are other things… 0-8-4s we, called them, in my timeline. Unknown things. They exist all over the world, and Michael knows about the concept, just not the details. This doesn’t have to be an arms race aginst the Soviets. With your help, with the SSR’s help, we can find and conduct research. Create defensive measures, improve lives here, and maybe – just maybe if bringing the Tesseract into another reality and timeline doesn’t work – prepare the future generations for the fight to save the galaxy.”

Thompson didn’t say a word, but stared at Steve, narrowed eyed. Then he glanced over towards Philips and asked, “This your plan all along, Chief Philips? To get Captain Rogers back in the saddle, and salvage what we can of the SSR?”

“Not quite,” Philips stated. “But I’ll take what I can get. We’re calling it SHIELD. Strategic Homeworld Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division. Answerable not to the United States, but independent with buy in from participating nations. Because any one nation that controls our people means that we’ll bend to their will. Two, possibly three bases to be initially established, headquarters still in New York. Preliminary Congressional hearing for what happened with Wolf Spider is tomorrow. With your help in the details, I’ll be proposing SHIELD then.”

Silence fell among those gathered, before Thompson surprisingly stuck out his hand to Philips. Bucky watched with surprise as his commander shook Thompson’s hand. He wasn’t the only one to do so.

“Strategic Homeworld Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division,” Thompson murmured. “SHIELD. Has a nice ring to it.”

Thompson let go, and nodded to Steve. “However long it takes you to return this stone and leave the Tesseract elsewhere, good hunting, Captain. Chief Philips and I will be waiting to discuss the raising of SHIELD with you.”

“Half a minute to a minute maximum our time,” Howard stated, returning to where the prototype arc reactor was. “However long it will take Steve is unknown, but that’s relative to his time. We’re almost ready.”

As those gathered, took a few steps back, including Peggy – though she briefly made her way over to where Tony was, to say her farewell, before joining the others further back – Bucky nodded to Natasha. Steve stepped to the side, allowing him some privacy.

“Natalia,” Bucky began. “It has been an honor, serving with you.”

“Aww,” Natasha said, a genuine smile lighting up her lips. “You’re so sweet. Thank you. The honor has been mine as well, James.”

“Stark,” Bucky then addressed Tony, who came over as Howard and David looked to be done on their side.

“Barnes,” the inventor greeted. “New sets of armor for you, Barnes. On the table, mashed in between Steve’s sketches. For just in case Steve really decides to retire. Made with the rest of the ‘cleansed’ swords that the Widows dropped.”

“Sets,” Bucky repeated, amazed at Tony’s generosity. For a man who had initially called him a murderer and ‘not a murderer’, to outright ignoring him, then constantly derisive whenever speaking to him, to now… Bucky had no other words.

“Sets, yeah,” Tony repeated. “You deaf or something?”

“Uh, no,” Bucky answered. “Um… thanks. It’s… really generous of you.”

“Yeah well, Aunt Peggy gets one as well. If both you and Steve just up and retire from all of this shit, she can take over. If there’s anything I know of Aunt Peggy – she’s never going to retire,” Tony answered.

The inventor almost clapped him on the arm, before remembering that he had the power to ‘dust’ people. Tony shrugged and stepped back, disappearing at nearly the same time Natasha did so as well.

Bucky did so as well, joining Peggy by her side. He placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. They watched as Steve activated his armor – the full vibranium one, pick up the shield and sling onto his back, and tighten his hold on the case that contained the Tesseract.

The machine was activated, as Howard and David stood at their respective stations. Bucky nodded once as Steve climbed onto the platform. Steve glanced over at them, seemingly holding only both him and Peggy in his eyes, before activating the time-jump armor.

A second later, Steve disappeared.

Bucky let go of the breath he had unconsciously held. Those who had never seen the device in action before were murmuring to each other in surprise. More than a few wanted to approach and examine the machine some more, but thankfully, Sousa and Li prevented anyone from getting close.

Counting thirty seconds was agonizingly slow, but Bucky drew on his patience – his experience in waiting for the perfect kill shot as a sniper. When the thirty second mark passed, he grew slightly concerned, but continued to count towards the minute.

At two seconds past the minute mark, Steve did not appear.

At one-and-a-half minutes, Peggy took a step forward, concerned. Bucky let go of her shoulder. The platform remained empty; the machine still active and humming.

Past five minutes, Howard directed David to run a power diagnostic and check, as he went from his station to another part. Murmurs of concern were beginning to grow among those gathered. Bucky stepped up to Peggy, seeing her waver slightly.

Bucky caught her, and lowered her gently to the floor at ten minutes – her sobs puncturing the murmurs that had turned into outright orders being barked by Howard for several members of the 107th, along with Sousa, Li, and Lorraine, to double check certain areas of the facility.

Dottie approached with a handkerchief at thirteen minutes past due. She gave it to Peggy to help dry her eyes and blow her nose. The former Black Widow remained on the other side of Peggy, hesitatingly reaching out to comfort her.

Philips knelt down in front of him, silently indicating with a slight nod and shift of his eyes that he should take Peggy away. Bucky shook his head, the first time he openly defied his commander’s orders – though it wasn’t exactly an order. His commander nodded once, rose up, and left.

At twenty minutes, things became more frantic.

It was at twenty-three minutes past the due time that something finally happened. Bucky saw it out of the corner of his eyes, as shouts and exclamations, followed by several people pulling out their guns, filled the air.

A circle of sparking fire appeared between him, Peggy, and the platform.

Unsurprisingly, Ghost Rider emerged from the circle of fire, but the portal did not close behind it. Instead, it remained open. An uneasy feeling unlike the worry that he felt waiting for Steve to return, welled up within Bucky.

The gasps and murmurs that had died as others who had never seen Ghost Rider before – which was the majority of those gathered on the floor, died. But then, they started up again, as soon as the entity took on the more youthful version of his visage—

“What the devil?!” DumDum’s exclamation sounded over the rest of the murmurs building up again. “Barnes why does—”

“Sergeant Barnes,” Ghost Rider began.

“Everything has a price, don’t they?” Bucky asked, glancing from the entity and briefly to Peggy. There was a worried look on her tear-streaked face, but he knew that there was nothing he could say to comfort her. Steve was most likely ‘stuck’ on Vormir in 2014.

“What do I need to do to get Steve back?” he asked, returning his attention onto the entity.

“Captain Rogers and Agent Romanov need help. If you and the others here wish for peace, then prepare for war.”

~~~

_At the same time, Vormir, 2014…_

Vormir was as beautiful as it was inhospitable.

Steve landed on stone stairs and scrambled to get his balance and footing. As he looked up and around, he realized that he was on the side of a mountain. The darkened skies, vast tapestry of stars, along with the constant eclipse surrounded by a ring of fire was eerie.

He didn’t dare call out for Natasha or the others though. This was the home of the Soul Stone, and he didn’t know what circumstances governed its return.

Retracting his time-jump armor, Steve adjusted his hold on the Tesseract case, and began the climb up. His muscles sang as they stretched and contracted with the steps he took up the mountain. He had remembered seeing documentaries about pilgrims journeying to the top of temples and monasteries – this felt like one.

The minutes passed, but Steve was not out of breath. However, as he approached the top, and before it, an archway of sorts, he paused, a feeling of something not quite right bubbling up within him.

“Steven, son of Sarah…”

Steve snapped his head up at the sound of the voice. Someone… something was floating down, black, dark with a billowing cloak flowing behind. But the voice – it was familiar. Too familiar.

“Son of a…” Steve began, gaping in surprise as he saw none other than the Johann Schmidt, the Red Skull, floating before him.

“Captain America,” the Red Skull purred. “You’re alive.”

“Right back at you,” Steve shot back.

There looked to be more that the Red Skull wanted to say, boast, or even declare, but strangely, he held himself back. Instead, the two mortal enemies circled each other, warily watching for any signs of attack.

It was Natasha, appearing out from the Soul Stone that broke the stalemate on the stairs. “You two know each other?”

“You could’ve told me that the guardian of the Soul Stone was the Red Skull,” Steve muttered.

“Didn’t recognize him at all,” Natasha answered. “And most of his face was hidden under the hood.”

“Ah, Natasha, daughter of Ivan. I see you have returned so soon—”

“Don’t you dare talk to her like you know her, you son of a bitch,” Steve growled, placing himself in front of Natasha. “You deceived her and Clint into making a decision—”

“On the contrary, I did not,” the Red Skull interrupted. “If you are here, Captain America, and your friend is here as well, you must be returning the Soul Stone.”

Steve clenched his jaw. He hated the fact that Schmidt had survived, only to end up like this. Yet, from what little Clint had told them about the ‘Guardian of the Soul Stone’ on Vormir, it sounded as if the Guardian had a half-life of existence. Condemned to this place, unable to escape.

_Karma’s a bitch, asshole._

Sam’s epithet, spat out against someone the Avengers had been fighting against, echoed in Steve’s thoughts. It felt appropriate, even though back then, he had gently admonished Sam’s language over comm – after the battle.

“I am,” he said after a moment, fighting to keep himself as neutral as possible. It was for Natasha, for Bruce, and for Tony that he did this. He could not let his anger against the Red Skull blind him.

“You are the first to do so,” the Red Skull stated, floating up towards the altar.

Reluctantly, and because there was no where else to go, Steve followed. As soon as he crested the top, with Natasha following behind him, he saw the two enormous plinths. The towering obelisks that towered high up into the skies were surrounded by misty-looking clouds.

The Red Skull waited, as a strange curiosity compelled Steve to approach the edge of the cliff. He peered over, but other than the intricate carvings into the stone several thousands of feet below, there was nothing else.

“Where’s Natasha’s body?” he demanded, looking back up and taking a step away from the edge.

“She gave her life for the stone,” the Red Skull stated. “There is nothing here that needs the body. Thus, it has been ‘taken away’.”

“Taken away?” Steve questioned, narrowing his eyes ever so slightly as he took a couple of steps towards the Red Skull. “By whom?”

“I know not,” the Red Skull surprisingly answered with no hint of anger or arrogance in his tone.

It was difficult to keep himself objective and neutral, but were it not for the fact that the Red Skull felt alien now, kept Steve from lunging in to attack. “So,” he began after a moment. “How do I return the stone?”

“Better question yet,” Tony interrupted, appearing next to Natasha, along with Bruce. “Is… what the hell happens to us, who were trapped here? Are we living here? Because—” Tony glanced around, seemingly unimpressed “—this place is dreary.”

“I think it’s eerily beautiful,” Bruce stated, shrugging as he went over to peer over the edge of the cliff.

“Fragments,” the Red Skull mused.

“You could say that,” Tony answered. “And by the way Voldemort, karma’s a bitch, isn’t it?”

Steve didn’t give the Red Skull time to answer Tony’s insults, as he took control of the situation again, asking, “Do I just drop the stone off the cliff, Schmidt?”

“It would seem that may be the resolution to the problem, Captain,” the Red Skull answered.

Steve closed his left hand into a fist as he felt the Soul Stone slip into his hand. As he went to the edge of the cliff, Natasha and Tony followed. The four of them peered over the edge, though there was a contemplative look in Natasha’s eyes.

“Bit too convenient, just throwing the stone back down there,” Bruce muttered.

“Ya think?” Tony quipped.

“Only one way to find out,” Natasha stated, before glancing over at Steve. “Might not want to deposit that thing here though,” she continued to say, gesturing to the case that Steve continued to hold in his right hand.

“Yeah,” Steve agreed, and slotted it into an empty part of his waist belt.

“You got about seventy years to train them up, Rogers,” Tony stated. “Me included, if Dad’s future still goes the same – which I think it relatively will. Dr. Strange may have seen only one scenario to win, but maybe he didn’t see this future’s scenario at all.”

“We’ll be there – even if we’re not the ones you know – to kick ass when the time comes,” Bruce chimed in.

“Thanks guys,” Steve said, grateful. “It’s been an honor, serving with all of you.”

“Steve?” she asked after a moment.

“Yeah, Nat?” he answered.

“Let go of the past. Your past. His future. You’ve already changed his future – for the better. Just live,” she said, disappearing at the same time Bruce and Tony did so as well.

Steve glanced down at stone within his gloved hand. He knew what Natasha was saying, and he knew why she was saying it. When he got back, he knew that he would have to have a very long – possibly painful – conversation with Peggy. And with Bucky as well – both of them together, in the same room.

A conversation about their future.

Steve raised his arm up and held out his left hand over the cliff. Out of the corner of his eyes, he could see the Red Skull hovering a few yards behind. Slowly, Steve opened his fist, and then tipped his hand over.

The glowing yellow stone slipped and fell.

The Red Skull darted forward, spindly, almost-skeleton-like hands reaching out, but Steve remained where he was. He watched as the Soul Stone seemingly slipped and winnowed its way down the dark drop, evading the Red Skull’s grasp.

Rage enveloped the Red Skull, but when he tried to pick Steve up by the front of his uniform, he merely passed straight through – as if he were a ghost. Steve turned slightly to see him stumble and brace himself against the rocks on the other side. The Red Skull was solid, but not solid—

“Guess I _don’t_ have to kick your ass.”

Steve turned around, eyes flying wide open as he saw Natasha standing before him. Her appearance was just as she was while in the stone – but there seemed to be something different about her. As if she didn’t _feel_ ethereal anymore—

“Nat?” Steve questioned, taking a couple of steps to close the distance. Behind him, the Red Skull’s curses filled the air, but he completely ignored it.

“Hey, handsome,” Natasha answered, smirking.

“Did it work?” he asked, stopping before her. He raised his hands slightly, but still felt hesitant to grasp her hands. It was not that he was afraid to be ‘dusted’, but that he didn’t want her to live with the guilt of his stupidity – if he touched her and made her ‘dust’ him.

She didn’t say a word for a few long seconds before she raised her right hand up, asking, “May I?”

Steve glanced at her hand. It looked the same, but again, there was that strange feeling. He silently nodded. She brought her hand close to his arm, and a second later, he felt the barest of pressures of her fingers through his armor—

He abandoned all pretenses and swept her up into a tight embrace. “Welcome home,” he said, letting her go a moment later.

She grinned, as she stepped back and glanced over, eyes focused on the Red Skull. The curses were still being shouted, but it seemed that he was finally beginning to realize just how futile and permanent his half-life was.

“Come on,” Steve said, reaching out and briefly took Natasha by the arm, glad that she was alive again.

They both walked past the Red Skull, who tried to lunge at them one more time, passing completely through both of them. The Red Skull’s curses echoed with their descent, but neither were paying attention to the Guardian anymore.

“You still got your armor?” Steve asked.

Natasha said nothing except to hold up her time-jump bangle draped on her left hand. But then, Steve saw horror overtake her expression. She turned fully around, stopping in the middle of the stairs. Steve followed her actions—

Thanos was standing at the threshold between the top of the mountain, and the stairs.

“You have got to be—” Steve began. He had hoped that it wouldn’t come down to this, that he wouldn’t have to face Thanos here – or anywhere else, really. But with the pattern the way it was, it seemed inevitable. He was at least grateful that Thanos did not appear elsewhere – especially not in 1949—

“Steve!”

Steve glanced over to see Natasha offering her hand to him. Ahead and further down the stairs, a circle of fire was forming. Ghost Rider didn’t step through, but there was no other way to read the interpretation of the circle of sparking fire – an invitation to run and evade the fight against Thanos.

He grabbed Natasha’s hand. Together, they both ran as fast as they could towards the circle of fire.

A chill passed through him as the haunting beauty of Vormir was replaced by the pallet of grey hues and lighting conditions that seemed to have no rhyme or reason. The ‘world’ that Ghost Rider and the ‘associates’ that the entity took as host was a strange one.

Both Steve and Natasha skidded to a halt as they glanced behind to see the fire circle snap close. Thanos had not followed them, and Steve couldn’t help but bark in laughter. Natasha’s snort of laughter sounded wonderfully pleasant in his ears, as did the warmth of her hand enveloped in his own – even if it was gloved.

She let go first, as she spun around, saying, “Well… either we’re to wait for Coulson or some other person to help us cross—”

Another fire circle, this time larger than the one they had jumped through, appeared a few hundred feet away from them. To his horror, Steve saw the skyline of Vormir in the background for a brief moment before Thanos himself stepped through.

Even before that portal closed, another fire circle formed. The jungles of Wakanda were seen for a brief moment – and yet another iteration of Thanos stepped through.

It kept happening – multiple circles of fire, multiple backgrounds that Steve recognized at times, and at others, didn’t. All contained the same traveler – Thanos. They kept coming through until Steve lost count as to just how many iterations of the Mad Titan there were in Ghost Rider’s ‘world’.

Steve immediately snapped his shield off his back, and brought it up in guard. Natasha held up her fists, her Widow’s Bite glowing a bright blue. He didn’t bother wondering if this was all a part of Ghost Rider’s agreement with Natasha and the fragmented souls of Bruce and Tony.

What mattered now was that it was him and Natasha, versus the Mad Titan – all of them – who had taken too many lives in the name of ‘balance’.

~*~*~*~


	32. Thunder – Part 2

**Chapter 27: Thunder – Part 2**

“ _What do I need to do to get Steve back?” Bucky asked, returning his attention onto the entity._

“ _Captain Rogers and Agent Romanov need help. If you and the others here wish for peace, then prepare for war.”_

Two armors – both tucked into tiny microdots – one blue, the other black; that was what Tony had forged for him.

The black microdot was embedded into the upper part of his metal arm, which still contained the bright red star of the Soviet Union. Of the past two weeks in which he could have finally erased the marker, Bucky didn’t. It just didn’t seem right to do – at least not yet.

The blue microdot was adhered to a copy of his dog tags. Becca had given it to him during the two week quarantine period. When the US Army had delivered the condolence letter to his family, they had also delivered a copy of his dog tags – something that the family could bury, since there was no body.

Becca didn’t want to bury the dog tags, and kept it. His family had buried an empty coffin. And now that he was alive, she had given the copy of the tags to him.

Peggy had adhered her microdot to her wedding ring, still strung around her neck. Her jacket that she had been wearing over her blouse was slung over a chair at the table. She had gone to quickly change into work trousers before returning.

She tapped the tiny thing twice, as she had seen Steve do multiple times to the inset jewel on the time-jump bangle. Shiny but muted blue-silver armor stylized in a similar color scheme and make as Steve’s full vibranium ‘Captain America’ armor bled over her.

Peggy gave a small start, echoing a few others who watched the transformation.

When it was done, she stood before him – all of them – garbed in armor, complete with a helmet covering the top-half of her face. There was even the stylized ‘A’ on the helmet. She looked every inch of Captain America. Even if Tony not stated those words to him about a half-hour ago, Bucky believed she would make an excellent ‘Captain America’.

“How is it?” he asked.

“Snug,” she answered. “But fitted. My clothes underneath don’t feel like they’re interfering with my movement. There’s a comm system built into the helmet. I can hear some buzzing.”

“You look… amazing, Peggy,” Dottie’s exclamation drew their attention to top of the stairs.

The 107th, along with Brooklyn personnel had scrambled as soon as Ghost Rider had stated his declaration. Bucky had offered no explanation, and neither did Peggy about Ghost Rider – except that both of them had dove for Steve’s sketches to retrieve the armors.

Howard had armed both him and Jarvis up. David had been ordered to remain behind, and destroy the machine if six hours passed without contact. No one knew where Ghost Rider’s offer was going to take them, but it was clear that Steve needed help.

For everything that had happened, the SSR still vowed to provide that.

That had been seven minutes ago. The fire portal remained, but no one knew how long it would last.

The others began to stream down, carrying various arms they had left after the last couple of weeks. Thompson and Philips followed, both armed as well. Lorraine held a rifle and at least one combat knife. Dottie had armed herself with two pistols, and what looked like two crowbars strapped to her side.

Bucky activated his armor; double tapping the microdot adhered to the red star. The all black armor bled up and over him. It felt slightly different than Steve’s armors that he had worn before. More padding at the hollows of his shoulders and arms – to better absorb a sniper rifle’s kickback.

Yet, in other places, the armor was limber, looser for quick movements. Stark had read him incredibly well in terms of combat preferences.

Bucky felt the armor snake and crawl up his neck, enveloping the bottom of his face, before stopping. A set of glasses wove around his eyes. Even without a mirror, he knew what he looked like – the Winter Soldier of Steve’s memories.

“Your star,” Peggy’s voice drew his attention to her.

There was no fear in her eyes. Instead, she had a gentle, proud smile, before briefly brushing her armored fingers over his left deltoid shaped metal muscle. He looked at it; no longer a singular blood-red color against silver.

It was red-white-blue, concentric stars.

He held Peggy’s gaze for a moment, before nodding once. The Winter Soldier was his to shape in this timeline. It seemed that Tony’s final gift was truly to acknowledge that.

“Move out,” Peggy ordered a moment later.

Bucky slung his sniper rifle over his shoulder, and snatched the lone ancient Asgardian sword that remained. It was the one that Steve had had on him when he went to 2013. Steve had stopped Tony from smelting it with the others, but did not say why.

Considering that they were practically running into an unknown situation, Bucky wanted to keep that sword with him. Even as painful as it had been to activate the sword – he would take whatever advantage he could get.

Together, both he and Peggy stepped through the spitting fire portal.

Eerily beautiful, the world before him and the others seemed like an endless horizon of soft and hard greys, mixed with a multitude of sand dunes in the distance. But that was marred by what laid in front of them.

An enormous sea of figures, almost all looking nearly identical, dressed in similar golden armor. Tall, purple in color, with enormous tree-trunk-like legs and arms, and faces twisted in cruel joy.

“Thanos.” Peggy’s whisper sounded like an epithet.

Two figures a few hundred yards below the dune they had crossed into, were recognizable. Steve on the left, and Natasha on the right. Steve had his shield out in front, and Natasha had her fists up—

Yet, before Bucky or the others could hurry to Steve to help him, another sparking fire circle formed a couple of yards on their left. A crackling sound sang across the comm hooked up to his ear—

“Hey Cap,” an unfamiliar voice, rich in humor and confidence, issued across the comm. “On your left.”

~~~

Steve turned slightly to his left in disbelief—that couldn’t have been Sam’s voice—

His eyes widened in surprise as he saw Sam, dressed in a variant stars-and-stripes uniform fly through the fire portal that appeared on his left. There was a grin on Sam’s face, as he landed and drew his silver-white starred, red-blue concentric circled _shield_ forward.

“Uh…” he began. “Nice shield, Sam…”

“Spoilers, Steve.”

Steve’s eyebrows hit his hairline as he saw Bucky… Bucky he had left in 2023, walk through. His hair was cut short, and he was garbed in a dark blue, almost black variant of the uniform he had worn to battle in 2018.

Bucky’s Wakandan-made, sleekly burnished black metal arm was holding a high-powered rifle. It was held casually against his shoulder, but then tipped downwards and held at half-ready as soon as he stopped.

“Bucky…” Steve whispered.

“Looks like your team from the 1940s are here as well, Steve,” Bucky warmly answered, attention not on him anymore, but looking over to Steve’s right.

If the day, night, or even just the gathering of people could get stranger, it did. He was a little glad that he was not the only one taken aback. Both Peggy and Bucky of 1949 had stepped through, wearing armor—

“Nice,” Tony’s voice spoke up from behind both him and Natasha. He turned to see him approaching, with Bruce of all people following. “It’s actually working…”

“What is…” Steve began, glancing between Sam and Bucky of the 2020s, and Peggy and Bucky of the 1940’s.

Nevertheless, the four were not the only ones streaming out of the fire circles on the seemingly endless dune. More than a few familiar faces – including that of the SSR he had just left behind, stepped into this other world.

Dottie, Lorraine, Philips, Sousa, Thompson, and more – all from 1949. Clint, Shuri, and others he didn’t quite recognize – all from 2023 or further in the future. He didn’t see Dr. Strange, or any of the sorcerers, nor did he see Wanda, Pepper, the Guardians of the Galaxy, Carol Danvers, Thor, or the Asgardians.

Yet, many more fire circles were forming. All from different realities, all containing different iterations of the Avengers and their friends. And, all of them were pointed towards the multiple iterations of Thanos—

At that very moment, Steve realized just what bargain Natasha, along with Bruce and Tony, had struck. 2023 may have been saved, may have been the one reality out of so many that Dr. Strange had seen, but there were so many more in danger.

Ghost Rider’s bargain was to eliminate as many iterations of Thanos as possible. And the entity had used the returning of the stones, and the creation of many other realities derived from the changes that he, Steve, and his friends wrought to bring it together.

“Think of the Devil and he shows up,” he couldn’t help but mutter in irony as the entity suddenly appeared in front of him, Natasha, Tony, and Bruce.

“Two Thanos – Prime and Secondary,” the entity stated without preamble, wearing half of the face of his host.

Sam’s horrified exclamation, along with others who were not used to the visage of Ghost Rider nearly drowned out whatever else the entity was saying. Fortunately, Steve partially read the entity’s lips, as ‘anchor points’.

“Thanos Prime?” Steve questioned.

The entity pointed to a knot of Thanos that was incredibly far from where he and the others were standing. That Thanos looked slightly different from all the others. Overly muscular to the point that it almost seemed comical, wearing swept out pauldrons of gold, and burnished purple-blue metallic armor covering his body.

“He doesn’t look like the Thanos we killed in 2018 or in 2023,” Natasha stated.

“That reality was the first to encounter the Infinity Stones. They lost, the same as you did, went back in time, retrieved stones, but still lost. What they did cascaded into what we have now,” Ghost Rider explained.

“And Secondary?” Steve asked.

“Your 2023 Thanos. There,” was all Ghost Rider stated.

The distance between the two could not be wider than it was. It was also filled with so many iterations and variations of the Mad Titan, that it just looked like a sea of gold and purple.

“So kill Prime, and we kill them all?” Bruce asked.

“Kill Prime and kill Secondary,” Tony stated. “Book ends of this entire Infinity Stone wars.”

Ghost Rider had reverted back to his full skull-on-fire form, but nodded once. Steve saw the entity loosen the chains wrapped around its chest, before walking away to fight on their left flank.

“You think that they all know?” Bruce murmured.

Steve didn’t immediately answer Bruce’s comment. Instead, he stared out at the many faces of Thanos. Most were smiling that cruel smile – anticipating the battle to come. None of the armies that Thanos commanded were there, but he would not be surprised if they showed up somewhere in the middle of what was going to be a massive battle.

“Doesn’t matter,” Steve stated. “We have our targets. We have our orders. Secondary is closer to us. Let’s get that son of a bitch first.”

“Copy that, Steve,” Natasha crisply answered.

Ghost Rider suddenly disappeared. Steve could only assume that the entity was quickly traveling to other groups as they showed up to brief them. Sam’s vocal questions went unanswered, though it was Bucky – Bucky of the 2020s – that silently gestured with a tilt of his head that Ghost Rider’s appearance would be answered later.

Steve heard Tony direct Peggy to activate her armaments. She was clearly unfamiliar with her new armor, but nevertheless willing to fight. Of Bucky, the 1949 version, there was nothing except for a simple raising of his sniper rifle – ready to take down enemies long-ranged.

Steve tightened the grip on his shield—

A whooshing jet and wash of bright white light, surrounded by sparking fire, crashed to the right of Steve and the others – slightly behind the closing portal of 1949.

“Fuck yeah!” Clint exclaimed. The Bi-Frost bridge mixed with the fire-circle portal faded, bringing a wide grin to Steve’s lips.

“Captain Rogers,” Thor of 2013 stated, striding forward.

Steve wasn’t the only one to stare in shock at what followed Thor – an Asgardian _**army**_.

“Agent Romanov. Tony Stark. Dr. Banner. It is good to see all of you, though I do not recall seeing Clint Barton among you—” Thor continued.

“Retired,” Clint from the 2020s, who had slipped into the shadows, shouted, clambering forward.

Clint slung an arm over Natasha’s shoulders and pulled her close for a brief moment. “But whatever,” the archer shrugged. “I’m always here for a fight, Thor.”

“The Spirit of Vengeance was ‘kind’ enough to explain the plan. I stole away to Nidavellir, and had the Dwarves forge weapons for you all. To help you in this grand battle,” Thor said.

Steve recognized Sif and the Warriors Three – owning solely to Thor’s grandiose tales that were told to the Avengers during the times they spent together in relaxation. They were carrying a few extra armaments as they approached.

Yet, Steve did not receive a weapon from any of them. He saw Natasha take two blades, Bruce accepting a glaive, Clint take a simple-looking recurve bow, and Tony being fitted with something against his chest. Instead, Thor withdrew the battleaxe he had held to the side, and handed it to him.

But Steve did not immediately take it. “Stormbreaker,” he murmured.

“Ah. You already know of its name,” Thor stated.

“It’s your weapon, Thor,” Steve said.

“Where you are from, it may very well be, Captain Rogers. Yet, you have proven yourself worthy, wielding Mjolnir. Stormbreaker is more suited for you than I, and no cause worthier than now.”

Steve didn’t say a word, but he heard Thor. He nodded once, and plucked the battleaxe out of Thor’s hands.

It was incredibly light. He swung it around once, feeling the power course through him—

“Avengers—” Steve began, shifting to a ready stance.

~~~

“—assemble!”

The Winter Soldier grimly smiled behind his half-mask as he saw lightning crawl and fork up Steve’s armor. Even before Steve had finished the phrase, the Winter Soldier’s glasses had responded to his unconscious command to wrap around his eyes.

Tony had even integrated a small amount of his scope into the lenses, right where his eyes peered through. Such as it was, the advanced technology that the inventor had left behind for him and Peggy.

The battlefield immediately exploded with chaos.

Enormous bolts of lightning were unleashed by Steve and the Asgardian named Thor. What _looked_ like magic spells from another group of people fighting at least a couple of hundred feet away from them on their left, shattered the ranks of the many iterations of Thanos. Even more wide area attacks were being wrought by other weapons.

_Target mid-ranks, form possible wall to stymie advance._

_Breathe—heartbeat—fire—fire—fire—they know we’re aiming for Second._

_Shift two degrees right—fire—fire—fire._

_Prime protected—d_ _odge—incoming sword—_ _roll—_

The enormous sword that had been spinning towards him missed him by a hair.

_Conserve, breathe—pause—heartbeat—fire—fire—head shot._

_Steve, right flank—shift five degrees right—fire—fire—cannot reach Second—_

The Winter Soldier dove for the ground, flattening himself against the super-heated ground for a moment. Two more swords thrown from a pair of Thanos whirred across where his head used to be.

_Drawn attention, flank bolstered by **not** an Asgardian Army—Roman?_

_Lightning damage—fire—fire—breathe—pause—heartbeat—_

_Area attack wave—brace!_

For a quick second, the Winter Soldier let go of his sniper rifle and planted his left hand deep into the ground. The resultant explosive force of the area attack unleashed by an ally blew everyone back. Even before the wave died, he had brought his sniper rifle back up.

_Pause—acquire targets—fire—fire—shift three-point-two degrees up—fire—fire._

_Targets scattering, taken out by other snipers—still solidly blocking Prime._

_Volley, pressure on right flank—always any iteration of Steve’s weak spot._

_Covered—fire—fire—forces blocked in left advance—_

_Reload._

_Pause—arrow piercing explosives blinding, switch to infrared._

_Breathe—heartbeat—cover collapsing flank—fire—fire—fire—fire._

_Flash-bangs—fire—fire—head way made to get to Second._

The Winter Soldier paused for a moment. The resultant blinding explosion from the combined flurry of long-ranged bullets piercing the additional explosives that had been thrown with the flash bangs sent a shower of blood, guts, and other things showering down upon him.

_Scope up, targets flattened on right flank—_

_Steve in cohort fighting flanks—shift twenty-three degrees to left—fire—fire._

_Natalia closing in on two—covering—fire—fire—collateral damage._

_Pause—breathe—heartbeat—fire—fire._

_All out, empty, switching to close-quarters—target Second._

Snapping his rifle over his shoulder and behind him, the Winter Soldier swiftly rose from his crouch. He sprinted down the dune and leapt up, snatching the nearest wobbly shield – his Steve’s shield – that had been deflected by a heavily scarred Thanos.

Bucky only had a brief moment to spy Steve fighting two-handed with the giant battleaxe. Drawing the shield up as Bucky landed, he brought it down against another Thanos. His arms rippled in agony, the whine of his metal arm high and harsh. The strike was blocked.

But it opened the opportunity—

Like synchronous timepieces, he felt the sword strapped to his side snap away. It was thrust up, and into the Mad Titan he briefly held in a wrist lock, right where the plates of golden armor did not protect.

The Mad Titan wobbled for a moment as the sword was yanked out. A darkly burnished metal arm briefly cut across Bucky’s vision, with the bloodied sword leading the way. The sword disappeared into and through the face of the Mad Titan.

Only then, Bucky let go of his hold. Thanos, one of many, collapsed. He glanced over, nodding once in brief satisfaction. His counterpart, the 2020s version that Steve had left behind, answered in kind.

“One down,” Bucky murmured in the brief reprieve given to both of them, by a small cohort of Asgardians surging forward.

“A metric fuck tonne more to go,” his counterpart answered.

~~~

Peggy’s arms ached. She prided on the fact that she kept herself in top physical form, but this was wholly different. Thanos – all of them, were at least twice her height, and several times her weight.

All she could do was raise her arms to block, as she was driven into the ground. The shields that formed on her wrists and forearms from Tony’s customized armor were barely strong enough to stop Thanos’ double-bladed weapon.

This iteration of Thanos – one-eyed, that she currently held at bay, pressed further down upon her.

That was alleviated a moment later as the flash of a silver-blue-red shield, followed by Bucky – no, the Winter Soldier – in his black armor, and another version of the Winter Soldier wielding a sword lifted the burden from her. As the one-eyed Thanos rocked back, the alien was peppered with bullets, and even a few explosives from the 107th behind her.

“Sam!” she heard the Winter Soldier – the 2020’s version of Bucky, she recognized by the virtue of his dark metallic arm – call out.

“Gotcha!” a dark-skinned man dressed in a variant of the stars-and-stripes uniform shouted. A moment later, a flurry of explosives were unleashed, driving one-eye Thanos, and a couple of more of his cohort back.

“Fire now!” Philips ordered.

A torrent of bullets pierced the nearest Thanos, and even managed to shear off limbs off two more. Peggy caught a glimpse of the two Winter Soldiers exchanging weapons – sword for the 1949 version, shield for the 2020’s version. It took her a moment to remember that Bucky, her 1949 Bucky, had brought the lone Asgardian sword with him.

She saw him press the trigger on the sword. A gust of wind buffeted them. Even with the strange sand-like substance on the ground briefly lifted up, when it settled, a most unexpected sight greeted them.

A pack of white wolves – not the snapping, vague grey shapes that she had expected – surrounded the 1949 version of the Winter Soldier. They howled, and as one under the Winter Soldier’s direction, they charged.

The three nearest Thanos did not stand a chance as the pack devoured them. Limbs, blood, and entrails flew everywhere. Yet, even with the brief push back, more iterations were approaching. Peggy didn’t know when it would end—

“Go!” Sam shouted, seemingly to both Winter Soldiers. “Roman Army is closer! They’ll need both of you!”

For a second, Peggy couldn’t help but blink in surprise. She had seen the ‘Roman Army’ like force emerge far and away from them.

Compared to the 107th and SSR agents who had followed her and Bucky here, she hadn’t thought the Roman Army stood a chance. Even she had held the Asgardian Army with more regard – and the Asgardians were proving their prowess in battle.

But the Roman Army _was_ making inroads. They were the closest to the Thanos-Second that Ghost Rider had pointed out. Thanos-Prime was still at the heart of the others – not moving, and too well-protected.

“Go!” Sam’s shout was repeated.

A woman who looked eerily like Steve, and yet another iteration of Bucky – but not in the persona of the Winter Soldier – arrived. More members of what looked like a different iteration of SHIELD – the patch on their outfits being different – also came to reinforce the 1949 line.

Another woman, wearing a starburst centered armor, and glowing much like what she remembered Steve’s memories showed, shot ahead. She began to fight toe-to-toe against the nearest Thanos. She did not look like the one Steve had named Carol Danvers, but looked similar to Steve, except with brown hair.

“We got this!” the glowing woman shouted.

The two Winter Soldiers did not need to be told otherwise. As Peggy stepped forward again to rejoin the fight, she watched the two dash off. The pack of white wolves led the way…

… but behind that pack was another. A strange pack of Winter Soldiers, streaming down from formerly ranged positions to join the two; all outfitted in similar details, especially the metal arm that marked them so.

* * *

The wolf pack hunted; Winter Soldiers and the white wolves alike.

Slowly and steadily, they tore apart the massive bulk of enemies who had tried to surround and trap the so-called Roman Army making inroads towards the Secondary Target. Each target that the Winter Soldier direct his wolves to snapped and held onto an iteration of Thamos, giving his counterparts and others helping them a chance to take the Mad Titan down.

The pain lancing up his right arm was enormous, but he kept his breathing steady, his movements steady, and kept fighting. As the last of the Thanos that had tried to wall off the Roman Army fell, the Winter Soldier and his cohort met the Roman Army.

They were numerous legions garbed in various armors. The most prominent ones were the ones dressed in long capes with cresting galeas, and armor. Everything about them was black in color, and they were holding the perimeter quite steadily. The other legions were advancing and taking advantage to help push back.

Even more stranger was that there looked to be _spells_ being slung from several of the black-garbed soldiers. Then, the sea of legions parted for a second – and the Winter Soldier saw _her_ —

Flame-haired, dressed in armor that had a red hour-glass motif in the center – Natasha. She was flinging fire spells at several variants of Thanos; the one who was creating the rather acrid smell that lingered here.

Fighting beside her looked to be another iteration of himself – garbed in the all-black armor, Steve in a variant stars-and-stripes armor, and Peggy—

For a brief moment, the Winter Soldier thought he saw the glow of green – of the Time Stone – resting within Peggy. But a blink of his eyes, and the mirage disappeared. Yet, he could not shake the feeling…

“Time Stone,” he heard his counterpart state over the din. “This iteration of Peggy is an incarnation of the Time Stone.”

_A_ _nd_ _**we** _ _are_ _currently_ _immune to t_ _hat stone_ _._

The wolves he commanded suddenly surged forward, briefly drawing the four’s attention towards him, the other Winter Soldiers, and the others fighting with them. He didn’t know if his counterpart knew, but if this iteration of Peggy was slinging what looked to be spells, then there was a good chance that she knew how to wield the Time Stone.

Or stop Time.

The mage iteration of Natasha suddenly turned towards them and made a gesture. The Winter Soldier almost commanded the wolves to attack her, though it was his counterpart who had held up his metal hand to stop him.

“There are a lot of you, Praetorian Barnes,” the Winter Soldier heard Natasha state.

“Your own personal army of Winter Soldier’s sir,” an unfamiliar, but chipper voice said.

A moment later, the ground outside of the perimeter that he and his counterparts had entered, shook rather violently. The same chipper voice was cheering. The Winter Soldier wasn’t sure if he heard his counterpart mutter some epithet and the word ‘quake’.

But he did realize that he could now _understand_ what was being said all around the Roman Army. Someone most likely had sent a translating spell their way; even if his thoughts were rebelling at the fact that this was not a typical Roman Army.

He could understand them; they could understand him, then…

“Use a time stop spell,” both he and his 2020s counterpart shouted at nearly the same time.

Wide eyes turned towards them. One in disbelief – Steve. One in uncertainty – Peggy. One in absolute agreement – their Roman Army counterpart.

“That’ll stop all of us—” Steve began.

“We’re immune to it,” the Winter Soldier stated, gesturing to both him and his counterpart. “One of us is host to Ghost Rider.”

“It’ll work,” Natasha spoke up, confident.

Peggy still looked uncertain, but she glanced over to his the Roman counterpart, who nodded once. “Ten seconds,” she stated. “That’s all I—we can give you.”

Steve suddenly barked a few orders, and the lines that surrounded them shifted. There was a glowing object hanging around Steve’s neck. But Steve disappeared from view, as the Roman legions streamed between them.

The Winter Soldier caught a glimpse of his Roman counterpart slicing his hand with a knife. Then his counterpart dropped his blood into what looked like a similar glowing container chained around a necklace around his neck.

Not a second later, everything around the Winter Soldier and his counterparts froze.

_10…_

The Winter Soldier sprinted forward, wolves leaping and tearing apart the first Thanos they saw.

_9…_

His counterparts – two of them – leapt up and over the wall of black-clad guards, knocking over three more Thanos. They couldn’t waste time killing them.

_8…_

Several more Winter Soldiers surged after them, a wall of silver and black meeting the wall of gold and purple.

_7…_

His counterpart with the dark metal arm threw Steve’s shield to clear the path directly in front of them.

_6…_

Two more variations of Thanos were knocked down. There were five iterations of Thanos directly in front of him and his target.

_5…_

The Winter Soldier commanded his wolves to plow directly into the five Thanos in front of him.

_4…_

Time was slipping away. Three Thanos now stood before him and his target.

_3…_

He saw his counterpart angle himself and his shield down, and ran as fast as he could towards him.

_2…_

His boosted flight up and over the remaining heads of the Thanos flung him high. He angled his sword down. His armor bled up and over his silver arm – seemingly reinforcing the blow he was about to make.

_1…_

The Winter Soldier struck, driving his sword into and through the golden helmet, piercing the head of the Secondary Mad Titan—

_0…_

Bucky hit the ground hard.

Even as he curled up, he knew that within seconds, he would be killed by the rest of the Thanos that surrounded the secondary target. He waited for the cold touch of sharp metal to pierce him…

… and took comfort that one of the two targets had been eliminated.

~~~

“Secondary is down!”

Steve had a moment to look over from where he was fighting to see the Bucky – 1949 version, based on the armor – plunge down from on high, and drive his sword into Thanos. There were a lot of Thanos surrounding Thanos-Second. With dread, Steve knew that Bucky was trapped in there—

Then, the battlefield exploded. Not in chaos, but with the horde of creatures that had been snapped away.

“Fall back!” Steve shouted to the others. He despaired. He couldn’t get to Bucky—

He swung Stormbreaker this way and that. Lightning arced and plunged into several creatures, forking and burning its way through. It gave him and the others room to maneuver, to fall back to a more defensive line.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a glowing woman – not Carol Danvers, but someone who looked oddly familiar – fly and plow into the line of creatures and Thanos. She was aiming directly towards where Bucky had fallen, and nothing was seemingly stopping her momentum.

Several heartbeats later, Steve saw her fly up and away, carrying two people—

“Steve!” Natasha’s shout alerted him.

Steve ducked and rolled, bringing Stormbreaker up in a block against a giant ape-like thing. The beast and its giant weapon were heavy. With the angle he stood at, he couldn’t get leverage to move.

The ground beneath him suddenly rumbled and shook. It caused the ape like thing to stumble, giving Steve precious footing. He snapped up, and pushed with all of his might, before swinging the battleaxe overhead and down into the ape.

It fell down dead.

Steve glanced over to see more familiar faces – specifically people from a world that had gone mad with HYDRA’s secret victory and the Red Skull possessing his body. As they pushed forward with the reinforcing of the lines – with some help from scattered members of the Asgardian Army, the Avengers gathered around him.

He briefly looked up and over the lines. Thanos-Second may have been killed, and his death unleashed the rest of the snapped horde, but no Generals were showing up. Yet, Thanos-Prime was still being guarded tightly. They would exhaust themselves first before getting close…

Steve realized that he had the means to get close.

“I got a bad idea,” Steve declared, unhooking the casing that held the 1949 Tesseract within.

Tony glanced at him with raised eyebrows. “Bold and risky, Cap. But it might just work.”

“Steve, that’s more than just gamma radiation alone—” Bruce began.

“We share the burden,” Tony stated. “Grab hands and hold on tight. Don’t fucking sing Kumbaya, because this’ll probably hurt like a bitch. It’s how Quill and his people tanked the Power Stone in 2014.”

“Clint—” Natasha began, as Steve snapped Stormbreaker to his back and held out his right hand for Natasha to take, while his left held the covered Tesseract. One of her swords hung between their hands.

“There ain’t no fucking way I’m sitting this one out, Nat,” Clint vehemently stated, and stepped up. The archer grabbed Natasha’s other hand, before taking up Tony’s. Bruce was the last the complete the circle, with his glaive held between Tony and him.

Steve snapped open the casing, and threw it up slightly to flip it over. As soon as it landed in his hand, he felt a stab of ice pierce his hand and shoot all the way up his arm, across his chest, and down his right arm. It was cold – colder than he had ever experienced before with the Tesseract.

This was the Space Stone unblunted by the Soul Stone, and it burned like nothing he had ever felt before.

He pushed past the pain, destination firmly in his mind as the ripples of the rippling blue-black cloud surrounded him and his friends. A moment later, they were thrown into the chaos and howls of a frenzied battle—

~~~

A ripple of a familiar blue-black cloud in the distance, entered the corner of Bucky’s eyes.

The beasts hadn’t even toppled over from the crash of lightning that Thor – appearing not two seconds after the countdown finished – had summoned, when Bucky saw the Asgardian immediately fly up and away.

Shouting after the Asgardian did little. From where he laid, wounded, exhausted, and utterly spent, Bucky briefly followed Thor’s flight path. He saw a puff of a blue-black cloud appear in the middle of a tight knot of multiple Thanos and their beastly armies.

With dread, Bucky realized that Steve had used the 1949 Tesseract – without the blunting or absorption of a Soul Stone.

~~~

Steve barely had a second to snap the casing close around the Tesseract and hook it to his belt. He dodged, rolling and diving this way and that, as the roars of the many iterations of Thanos bore down. Sharp blades twisted overhead, stabbing wherever his head used to be.

Snapping Stormbreaker, up and over, he unleashed lightning in as wide of an arc as possible. Tony, Bruce, and Clint joined in – their own Asgardian-forged weapons blazing. It barely pushed the many iterations of Thanos back.

But it was enough.

Steve charged, running at full speed, and swung his battleaxe low, sweeping up to the left. As expected, Thanos-Prime blocked it with his sword.

But Natasha was faster – she wielded her dual swords like a scissor, and slid down low. Slicing the tendons of Thanos’ heels, the Mad Titan collapsed. Reinforcing that collapse was the arrival of Thor.

An enormous bolt of lightning crashed down upon the center of the fray. It sent a spray of deadly energy out like a jet wash, missing the Avengers by a hair.

Driven back and staggered for a brief second, Steve saw Thanos-Prime flail and take two steps back. Steve pressed his advantage by swinging Stormbreaker from left to right, up and into the Mad Titan—

With a resounding roar, Thor barreled into Thanos-Prime, driving both himself and Mjolnir into the alien. An explosion of arc-reactor energy from Tony’s enhanced armor, along with the starbursts of lightning from both Stormbreaker and Mjolnir, overwhelmed Steve’s eyes.

Yet, Steve kept pressing, kept pouring every single ounce of strength into driving the battleaxe into Thanos-Prime. The searing heat, the agonizingly hot knives of pain radiating up his arms and through his body – it was rapidly overwhelming him.

He held on, he pushed on; they were close. So close to victory—

The last thing Steve heard was something that sounded like thunder, before darkness claimed him.

~*~*~*~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Naturally, every single timeline that Steve (and Bucky) went to, when returning the stone, showed up to fight. A few notable iterations (and more Easter Eggs for those who've read through both series of CA fics) though:  
> 1) The reinforcements that came to aid the 1949 people in Peggy’s POV, are from [A Million Shards Falling](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14661462/chapters/33871146).  
> 2) The group that saves Steve from the ape before he uses the Tesseract, is from [The Paths We Take](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16959609/chapters/39855612) (specifically the group from the second half of the story).  
> 3) The Roman Army with spells iteration of Steve, Bucky, Peggy, and Natasha, is from the fusion fic: [A Dream that Was…](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23762434/chapters/57075301).


	33. Epilogue: A Matter of Time

**Epilogue: A Matter of Time**

They won.

It wasn’t by a sudden explosive blast from the epicenter of where Steve and the other Avengers were fighting. Bucky stared all around him; at the tiny motes formed from the sudden dissolving of the many faces of Thanos.

It was different from the dusting that he had seen in Steve’s memories.

It was… strangely beautiful; specks of light, like fireflies, floating among them, before fading away.

The Asgardians were first to declare victory, their roaring cheers of victory spreading relief through him. More joined in, echoing and overlapping with laughter and cheering.

The wounds that Bucky had sustained shot lancing pain through him, as he shifted ever so slightly. The half mask and glasses had retracted, allowing him an unfiltered view of his surroundings. His serum was working slower than usual in trying to stymie and heal him, but he supposed it was all due to the sword he had wielded.

Even ‘cleaned’, he could feel acute throbbing pain from the enormous gash that it had made when he used it. It ran up from his forearm and to his shoulder. But he considered it a small price to pay—

Heavily armored and wrapped feet in sandals entered Bucky’s vision. He blinked and looked up to see his Roman counterpart standing before him, before kneeling. The sword that he held onto was pried painfully away. Bucky didn’t have the strength to resist, as white-hot jolts lanced up and down his arm.

“Over here, Mage Natasha,” his Roman counterpart stated.

Hurried footsteps approached, but it was another person’s arrival that caught his attention. The woman who had glowed, had flown in a similar manner that he remembered seeing Steve’s memories of Carol Danvers, landed next to him. She had been the one to rescue both him and his 2020’s counterpart from the fray – from being trapped within the horde.

Of his 2020’s counterpart, he was lying on the slope of the sand dune as well. Steve’s 1949 shield was lying next to him. Bucky could see some cuts and scrapes, but he didn’t know how wounded his counterpart was.

“I don’t care if you think that your reality is better off without you, but please don’t ever so that again, Uncle Bucky!” the woman who was not Carol Danvers, cried.

Bucky frowned, as he caught his Roman counterpart’s puzzled glance at their mutual counterpart. They were both thinking the same thing – namely the convention behind ‘Uncle Bucky’. Then, his Roman counterpart resumed pointing out where his wounds were to Natasha, the spell user.

“My days of thinking about suicide have been long over, Caroline,” his 2020s counterpart stated. “Cards just fell that way during the attack.”

“That better be true, or else Mom and Dad are going to have your hide. Uncle Steve too, when I find him,” the woman huffed. Then, she reached out and gently squeezed his shoulder, before she took off in flight.

“Don’t tell me that fucking dumbass is missing,” he heard his 2020s counterpart mutter.

“Caroline?” Bucky couldn’t help but ask.

He needed something to distract from the rather painful healing, or whatever Natasha was doing with her glowing hands. His counterpart had an extremely firm grip on his metal shoulder, pressing him down to keep him from moving.

His sniper rifle, pressing simultaneously into the sand and his back, was uncomfortable. Yet, it hadn’t escaped Bucky’s notice that his Roman counterpart had a metal arm.

It was the one thing that defined them – all of them – as the Winter Soldier.

“Stephanie Rogers and James Barnes’ kid,” his 2020s counterpart stated. “Met them and the kid shortly after the grudge match between Stark, Steve, and me in 2016. 0-8-4, alien device, transported Steve and me to their world. Caroline was a toddler back then. Looks like she was transformed into that reality’s equivalent, or thereabouts of my reality’s Carol Danvers.”

“Huh,” Bucky grunted.

He didn’t know what to make of it, or how he felt about the fact that a female iteration of Steve, had a child with an iteration of himself – his selves. It certainly did feel a little odd, but strangely enough, he felt happy for that reality’s counterparts.

“How are your reckless counterparts, Buck?”

Bucky glanced over his Roman counterpart’s shoulder to see Steve – dressed in the red-white-blue with a white star Roman-like armor – approach. Peggy followed him. What Roman-Steve wore didn’t looked quite like the others within the Roman legions, but it did mark that version of Steve clearly as that reality’s Captain America.

Or whatever the Roman equivalent was.

“Wasn’t a reckless idea, Steve,” Roman-Bucky surprisingly stated, sounding defensive. “It was an excellent use of tactics, Peggy’s powers, and terrain advantage—”

“Fuck it. I’m not staying for a lecture or argument between the two of you,” their 2020’s counterpart suddenly stated, wincing slightly as Bucky saw him sit up.

“Hey, you’re still injured—” Roman-Steve began.

“Sam, what’s the status of the Avengers?” his counterpart stated, pressing his right ear, where Bucky was certain there was a comm piece. He heard the double voice in his own ear’s comm piece.

“I’m flying, but I’m not seeing a damn sign. Not even where Thor’s landing at Prime blew a crater into the ground,” Sam answered, worryingly.

Bucky blinked as a rather filthy swear in Russian issued out of his counterpart’s mouth. “On my way. I’ll meet you at the edge of the 1949 contingent.”

“Copy,” Sam’s crisp answer sounded over the com.

His counterpart then stood up, taking the shield with him, while simultaneously brushed off Roman-Steve and Roman-Peggy’s attempts to stop him. As much as Bucky himself wanted to follow his counterpart, he was still pinned down by his Roman counterpart, and still being healed.

“I didn’t quite catch what he said earlier,” Roman-Peggy began.

At that, Bucky couldn’t help but chuckle, thought that sent a sharp lance of pain through his injured arm. “It’s Russian,” he answered after taking a moment to just breathe through the pain. “Different language. Guess whatever translating spell that was cast didn’t account for it. Almost all of us Winter Soldiers speak that language.”

At the mention of the Winter Soldier name, he couldn’t help but notice that his counterpart had flinched. “Sorry,” he apologized.

The silence that feel upon them was uncomfortable, but Bucky still couldn’t not move to escape it. Instead, he glanced over towards where his counterpart used to lay, and stared out into the sea of people.

Motes of light continued to brighten as if fighting to not be erased, but ultimately fading.

Even with what Bucky could see, the disparate groups brought together to fight, were starting to gather along the edges of the dunes. Celebrations were fading, and the now, curiosities were being piqued between worlds, realities, and timelines. While some groups were healing or rendering medical aid, there was one thing clear to Bucky—

Steve, the other four Avengers, and Thanos-Prime – were nowhere to be seen.

* * *

It wasn’t just dark – it was completely pitch black.

Steve blinked. The unbearable pain that coursed through his body was gone. It was replaced by… nothing. No hint of exhaustion, aches, pulls, or even the scratch of cloth against his skin.

Yet, as soon as he started to move, the darkness that greeted him began to fade. It looked like dawn was approaching, though where the horizon began and ended was a little disconcerting. The entire place, including the ‘ground’ he was ‘standing’ on was brightening.

He glanced down – his body was still there. Armored, and he was holding onto Stormbreaker. But he felt almost nothing—

“You are alive. But only just.”

Steve turned from where he was, and saw the most horrific, yet strangely satisfactory sight. Ghost Rider was tugging on the chain that was usually wrapped around its chest. Attached to the other end of the chain was a seemingly anchored Thanos – the primary one.

Thanos looked to be struggling mightily against the chain, but strangely wasn’t making a sound. Ghost Rider looked completely unaffected by the struggle, though it was a little difficult to tell with the skull-on-fire visage.

“Alive?” Steve questioned.

“The Tesseract should have killed you and your friends.” The entity didn’t transform into its current host, but strangely, Steve could hear him speak.

Steve quietly sighed.

“What is the price?” he asked after a few moments.

“There is none. It has been paid by what **I** owe you and your Avengers, Captain Rogers.”

He gaped. Yet, the entity said nothing more. “Then where am I, and why am I here?” he asked.

“You stand at the precipice, between several realms, currents of space and time, Captain—” the entity began, but then fell silent. Almost immediately, the entity’s visage changed to that of his host.

“What it means to say is that you have a choice, Rogers,” the youthful, but battle-hardened and scarred visage of a younger Bucky who had went to war at the age of sixteen, stated. “Stay in 1949 and live the rest of your life there, or return to the 2020s.”

“I can do that?” Steve questioned.

“You stand between two worlds, but you may only choose one, Rogers,” the entity stated. “Ghost Rider is willing to make that concession for what you’ve done.”

“Where is my body then? In the 1940’s?”

He would be damned if he didn’t try one last time to find out what happened to his body when he tried to look for it. Only the shield had been recovered. If he was forced to leave Peggy and Bucky behind, he wanted to at least give them the location of himself – wherever he was.

“Your appearance there caused it to be momentarily displaced,” the entity answered.

“Displaced?” Steve began, then realized what Ghost Rider meant. “So, if I return to the 2020s, my other self will return?”

“Yes.”

The unasked question was there. If he was willing to do so – to leave behind those he loved. To leave behind Peggy, Bucky, and everyone else. To give them the clean slate of Steve Rogers, with only memories up to 1945.

But to not return to the 2020s was to also set his 1945 self up to be continually displaced until he died in the timeline he had carved out with Peggy and Bucky. To be selfish, and to set his 1945 self up for heartbreak, loneliness, and what he himself had gone through since 2011.

“Do I have to make the choice now?” he quietly asked.

Ghost Rider’s visage had returned to being a skull-on-fire. The entity did not say a word, except to fade before his eyes. The soft, warm colors of his surroundings also began to fade into a more grey pallet…

Steve felt sand, or at least whatever constituted the ground in this strange ‘world’, upon his back. Stormbreaker was laying a little ways away to his right, his hand outstretched towards it. All around him were tiny motes of light that were slowly fading like fireflies.

To his left was Natasha and Clint – both were stirring. Thor was already moving, though the Asgardian probably felt as sluggish as Steve.

Steve did not see Tony or Bruce anywhere; he could only surmise that because they had used the stones. Tony was technically dead. Steve could only assume that Bruce and Tony had only been grounded by Ghost Rider solely for the battle.

Booted feet stopped before his eyes. “Why d’ya have to keep being a dumbass, Steve?”

Steve glanced up. The burnished black metal hand that Bucky, his Bucky of the 2020s was extended towards him. “Thought I gave the stupid back to you, jerk,” he commented, faintly smiling.

“Punk. Don’t you remember? You took it all with you when you left with the stones,” Bucky gently retorted, but nevertheless, hauled him up.

“It isn’t 2023 anymore, is it?” he asked.

“Spoilers,” was all Bucky stated.

It was enough for him to understand that days, weeks, possibly months had already passed since he had left 2023. That he was crossing time streams either by showing up, or remaining behind while Bucky, Sam, Clint, and their friends came here to fight.

His future now, his past – if he returned to 2023.

Steve looked around, glancing down momentarily when he felt Bucky briefly squeeze his hand before letting go. It was a silent, yet affectionate gesture that spoke volumes between them; of a chance long passed, and of relief from Bucky that he was not dead.

He looked back up; there was a neutral look in Bucky’s eyes, and it wasn’t on him. The 2012 group of Avengers – identified solely through their uniforms – were approaching. Natasha and Clint of the 2020s were getting up, and Thor had gotten up with help from the Warriors Three and Sif.

Beyond the 2012 group, were a few others, including the 1949 group. Peggy looked uninjured, though Bucky – 1949 version – looked somewhat injured, but not as bad as Steve had initially thought. They were hanging back, as if unsure if they wanted to be quite a part of the gathering.

Mingling in with the group was surprisingly some of the not-quite Roman Army, including a surprising appearance of his own counterpart. What looked like people from the 1970’s were joining the 1949 group. More than a few from either groups were eyeing each other with slight surprise.

Steve focused his attention on the 2012 group of Avengers – the closest to him and his friends. That was, until Sam suddenly landed, making some noise. There was an extremely happy grin on his friend’s face as he surveyed the scene.

It was Bucky of the 2020’s rolling of his eyes at Sam’s dramatic entrance that broke some of the tension in the air. “Clearly, Steve’s stories about his USO days rubbed off on you, Sam,” Bucky dryly stated.

“Damn straight,” Sam answered “I’m making the red-white-blue look finer than she’s ever been.”

“I completely agree with that!” an unexpected voice chimed in.

Steve glanced over to his right to see his female counterpart – Stephanie ‘Stevie’ Rogers – approach. She, along with several SHIELD members that included Quake, Lincoln, Director Carter, and another version of Bucky who had not lost his left arm, and Caroline Rogers – that reality’s version of Captain Marvel – followed.

“Hey, an endorsement from another reality’s Cap. That’s pretty awesome,” Sam quipped.

“Stevie,” Steve greeted, fondly.

“Steve,” she answered, equally fond. “We won.”

Steve smiled, wide and happy. He nodded once. “We did.”

“And we have your group of Avengers to thank for that.”

Steve and the others turned around. Clint and Natasha, along with Thor and his friends had gathered closer to them. A small group – no more than three people, approached. Steve couldn’t help but gape slightly in surprise.

A woman who looked similar to Tony, dressed in nearly identical armor that Tony had worn into the 2023 battle, led the way. She was flanked on her right by another iteration of Bucky, in the uniform of Captain America. On her left was an iteration of himself – unexpectedly in the guise of the Winter Soldier, complete with a metal left arm.

“Thanos-Prime,” Steve softly stated.

“Antonia Stark,” the woman greeted, nodding once to his correct assessment of what her world had faced.

“Steve Rogers.” Steve shook the woman’s hand. “But you probably already knew that.”

“What happened to my counterpart and Dr. Banner in your reality? If they both existed?”

“Bruce – Dr. Banner – was the one who used the stones to bring everyone back,” Steve explained. “He was… a fragment of a soul that Natasha here—” he gestured to Natasha, who gave the three a simple nod “—carried when she was the Soul Stone.”

He paused for a moment, knowing that 2014 at Vormir had truly been the last time he had gotten to talk to Tony. He had said all he wanted to say – now was the time to honor a true protector and friend.

“Anthony Stark, gave his life to snap Thanos and his forces out of existence,” Steve solemnly stated. “One victory out of millions of losses that our reality’s Dr. Strange had seen.”

“So, what now?” Clint spoke up, breaking the solemn silence that had fallen.

Steve opened his mouth to speak. It was Ghost Rider’s sudden appearance in his skull-on-fire form that stopped him. However, the host form that the entity had taken was not the youthful version of Bucky, but of the man Steve remembered as Robbie Reyes.

“You go home,” Reyes stated, transformed to host state. “Ghost Rider’s work here continues.”

“There are more Thanos iterations, aren’t there?” Tony of 2012 spoke up.

Reyes inclined his head once. “But all of you have fulfilled your obligations, and some more than what was owed. All future fights against Thanos will not involve any of you, unless you explicitly contract with Ghost Rider again. Even then, there is no guarantee of your life, such as there was now.”

“So you’re saying to stay the hell out of your way?” Sam asked.

“It’s better that way,” Reyes answered. “For all of your own good.”

“All right, fine by me,” Tony – a wheelchair bound version – rolled up into the edge of the group. Steve recognized him as the Tony Stark who existed in the reality where the Red Skull had taken over the world – possessing him, Steve.

“So then, where’s the hell is Private Barnes, Reyes?” the same Tony then brusquely asked.

“Here, Stark.”

The crowd to Steve’s left parted slightly. The younger version of Bucky who had become host to Ghost Rider in order to return Steve and his friends to their reality, stepped through. Steve watched as he crossed to the other side, accepting something small and metallic thrown at him by the speedster Jacqueline Falsworth-Crichton.

It took Steve a moment to realize that the tiny object was that reality’s US Army Private James Barnes’ dog tags. The ones that contained the Captain America uniform. Said uniform bled over the young man a few seconds later.

That reality’s SHIELD Director, Daisy Johnson, handed Private Barnes the familiar shield. Barnes took the shield and draped it across his back, before turning back around.

A fire sparking portal had formed near the group.

An echo of surprise mixed with sadness shot through Steve as saw that reality’s James Barnes salute both Stevie and _him_. They were the two Captain Americas who had helped his reality defeat the Red Skull. The same Red Skull who had possessed that reality’s Steve Rogers – and was killed.

It was that reality’s Captain America’s way of saying thanks.

Steve returned it with the respect and honor that it deserved.

It was only after every single person from that reality had stepped through, and the portal closed, that Steve dropped his hand. It also was the signal for the others to begin to return to their own realities, times, and lives.

Antonia Stark, along with her reality’s Winter Soldier and Captain America left shortly after that. It didn’t seem that any of the three were keen on talking or goodbyes. Steve didn’t blame them; he was a little uneasy at the fact that he was the Winter Soldier in that reality.

Steve stepped away from Sam and Bucky, and picked up Stormbreaker. He approached Thor, who was watching the others leave with some curiosity. The Lady Sif and the Warriors Three were watching as well, though it seemed that all the weapons used by the other Avengers had been returned.

“Thank you, Thor,” he said, extending the weapon out.

“This was a battle that will be told for the ages to come,” Thor stated, but did not take the battleaxe. “That is yours to keep, Captain Rogers.”

As surprised as he was, Steve supposed that he shouldn’t have been. “It’s yours,” he insisted. “Maybe not now, but perhaps somewhere in the future.”

“The Allmother says that it is constantly in motion, that it is unpredictable,” Thor murmured, then nodded.

Relieved of the burden of Stormbreaker, Steve stuck out a hand to Thor. “I hope everything goes well for you and your reality in the future.”

“Yours as well, Captain Rogers,” Thor answered, clasping his arm. “It will be interesting to tell the tale of this battle to the Avengers. Yet, they shall know of the protection that was bestowed.”

They let go. Steve watched as Thor and the other Asgardians left through their own portal. As it snapped closed, he turned slightly at hearing footsteps approach.

“Don’t forget about this when you go home, Steve,” Bucky said, handing him his shield.

Steve took it, but not before shooting both Bucky and Sam a puzzled look. Neither said a word in response, but he had a feeling that it was clear that they were no longer from 2023. Yet, he also didn’t dare ask just how many years had passed since the battle.

He still hadn’t made his decision, but as he slung the shield across his back and returned to where Peggy and the 1949 group were. Footsteps behind him caused him to turn slightly, only to have Natasha drape and sling her arms around both him and Sam’s shoulders, pulling both of them close to her. Clint opted to walk beside Bucky, rolling his eyes at the antics.

“Good to have you alive, Nat,” Sam said, smiling.

“Clint still won’t tell me what year it is, so I bet it has to do with some spoilers,” Natasha started.

She didn’t get to speak more on the subject, but did let go as the Roman Army counterpart of Steve approached. The other Roman Army members had separated from mingling in with the 1949 and what looked to be 1970 – solely based on hairstyles – groups.

There was a strange, glowing tear-drop container of sorts hanging around his Roman Army counterpart’s neck. Steve suddenly remembered Bucky’s – 1949 Bucky – quip about playing Roman legion with his shield and the strange sword. The Roman counterpart in front of him carried a variant of the concentric circle and star shield, and what looked like a ludius.

“Well met, Captain Rogers, is it?” his counterpart said, stopping before them.

“It is… sir,” Steve answered. He could hear authority in that tone. Not that the bearing that his Roman counterpart spoke of someone incredibly used to command; living it day-to-day.

“General Rogers, commander of the northern armies,” his counterpart stated, holding out a hand. “Well, former commander. I had been in retirement for about six years, before the debt owed to Ghost Rider was due.”

Steve clasped his arm for a brief moment, a slight disquieting feeling running through him. He knew that he himself would never agree to anything with Ghost Rider unless it was a life-for-a-life. There were too many small loop holes that could theoretically arise if that debt was anything less than that bar.

“I’m sorry to hear that you had to make a debt with the Spirit of Vengeance, General,” Natasha sincerely stated, reaching out and clasping hands with Steve’s Roman counterpart.

“It was worth it,” Steve’s counterpart stated.

Steve didn’t miss the brief flick of his eyes towards Bucky. The disquieting feeling disappeared – he would have done the same if Bucky’s – or even Peggy’s – life was at stake.

“Pardon my rudeness, but how are we able to understand you?”

Clint had asked that question.

“My friend, Mage Natasha, cast a translating spell. It will wear off soon, but I was told by a variation of former Empress Peggy of the tale behind these stones,” General Rogers stated. “We will begin to search for the rest of the stones, and try to destroy them. You have my thanks, Captain – and your friends – for the foresight of preventing a larger war in my… time.”

Steve nodded, unsure as to what he was supposed to say to something like that. Fortunately, it was Clint again, who covered for his uncertainty by asking, “What’s that around your neck?”

“A phylactery,” was all Steve’s counterpart answered before bowing slightly to all of them. “Safe travels. May the future bless fortune upon your blades.”

“You as well,” Steve answered.

When his counterpart was definitely out of earshot it was Bucky who spoke up first, saying, “Definitely _not_ Roman Army.”

“Not in a million years,” Sam agreed. “Though…”

“Though?” Clint prompted.

“The movements that he directed his army during the battle reminded me that sword-and-sandal movies really suck at depicting battles,” Sam stated. “Aerial view and all that.”

“Come on,” Clint began, grinning. You can’t discount that he and the others are practically _Gladiator_ , with magic. Except that you know… instead of dying, Maximus lives.”

They watched as the not-Roman Army formed up and marched with precision into the fire portal. “Praetorian Guards,” Steve heard Bucky mutter.

“Barnes?” Natasha questioned.

Bucky shook his head. Steve shot his best friend a questioning look, but Bucky’s expression remained closed. Steve didn’t continue to pry.

“Head’s up Steve, looks like the 70’s are calling. Bad hairstyles and all.” Sam’s alert drew Steve’s attention to the 1970’s group and the fire portal forming near them.

He saw Bucky – 1949 – give his 1970’s counterpart the ‘cleaned’ sword. Caroline Rogers, the daughter of Stephanie Rogers, was watching the exchange with interest. The group that both Caroline and Stephanie were a part of, were also talking earnestly to what looked like 1970’s versions of Peggy and Sousa. Peggy – his Peggy, his wife, was surprisingly among the discussion.

There were some grim yet satisfied expressions when Steve and the others reached them. Whether by sheer presence, or the fact that Stevie knew him the best, she stepped forward. There was a strange object in her hand.

“Ghost Rider gave us a rather nifty 0-8-4 in repayment for what it owed us,” his counterpart began without preamble. “Turns out my reality is a nexus or crossroad for different realities to jump into. Private Barnes’ reality, and that one where Thanos-Prime existed, are nexuses as well. It certainly explains a hell of a lot of the 0-8-4s that keep transporting people to our reality.”

“So is that going to steady it?” Bucky asked.

“Focus most of the 0-8-4s, even the ones that we haven’t found yet,” Stevie answered. “First thing we’re going to do is establish a bridge to the 1970 reality that just had HYDRA exposed and unleashed. We have a lot of experience that they can use in their war.”

“They’ll definitely appreciate the help,” Steve answered, nodding.

“Then, we were thinking of establishing a bridge to your—”

“Don’t,” both he and Bucky stated at the same time.

Steve briefly glanced over at Bucky as Sam, Natasha, Clint, and Stevie chuckled. “We have enough of our own troubles,” Bucky amended.

“So I’ve gathered,” Stevie answered. “Are you sure?”

Bucky glanced over towards Sam and the others. All three nodded in agreement. “Yeah,” Bucky stated.

“How about you, Steve?” Stevie asked.

“I’m just a transient wanderer through time,” he said. He still had not completely made his choice on whether to stay in 1949 or return to the 2020s.

“Steve—” Natasha began, annoyed as she glared at him.

“Your wife – and by the way, congratulations – didn’t want a bridge connected anyhow,” Stevie cut in before an argument could break out.

Steve nodded, before murmuring his thanks. “Good luck on helping the 1970 group, Stevie.”

Stevie’s lips quirked up in a confident grin. “Yeah. Caroline’s already calling your counterparts Uncle Steven and Uncle James. The two of you are still Uncle Steve and Uncle Bucky in her eyes. She’s trying to get the eggheads to figure out if mail can be sent to you guys, even without a full-bridge being established.”

“Good luck to her,” Bucky said, chuckling.

“Anyways,” Stevie said, clipping the object to her belt. She stuck out her hand. Steve took it and firmly shook it.

“Thank you for you and your team’s help. It was good seeing all of you again, alive and well. Best of luck and good hunting, Captain Rogers,” he said.

“You as well, and thank you for everything, Captain Rogers,” she answered. Then she shook the others’ hands as well.

Steve watched her return to her group. 1970, along with 1949, and Stevie’s group slowly separated. Four fire circles had formed now, and one of them was clearly for the 2020s group to return through.

Both the 1970 and Stevie’s group left first – but not before Caroline made a mad dash towards Steve. She fiercely embraced him, and Steve returned the hug. Then, she did the same to Bucky, before flying back to the others.

Soon, it was only Bucky and Peggy from 1949 left, and the Avengers of 2020s that remained in this eerily beautiful world. Steve still had to make his choice—

“Ahem,” Natasha’s clearing of her throat startled him out of his thoughts.

Steve looked over to see that she had her hand outstretched.

“Tesseract, Steve,” she stated.

The argument that since Thanos was removed as a threat from the 1949 reality could be made, but there was still the threat of the Wolf Spider within that timeline. Wolf Spider only knew that the Tesseract was a part of the Thanos threat – that despite everything, he also wanted it out of the reality.

Removing the Tesseract would also remove the temptation for SHIELD to utilize the object to build weapons. He knew Thompson had good intentions – just like Fury did – but the two were too similar in defensive ideology and measures.

“Hide it somewhere, where even I won’t be able to find it, Nat,” Steve said, handing the case over to her.

Unsurprisingly, she briefly opened it to make sure that it was there before closing the case. Walking over to Peggy and Bucky, she briefly explained and showed the Tesseract to them. Steve could only guess that she was telling them of the promise to remove it from the reality. After all, she had a stake in that world as well.

“Okay, damn, didn’t know she liked you in that way, Barnes,” Sam’s soft exclamation as they saw Natasha then briefly kiss 1949 Bucky on the lips, pierced the silence.

“She doesn’t,” Bucky answered. Steve glanced over to see a faintly amused smile on his lips. “Not _me_ anyways. Not this iteration. Won’t ever. Too much history, too much bad blood.”

No words of sympathy was stated, even though it seemed the most appropriate thing to say in the face of such self-deprecation. Yet, Steve was not one to let it remain that way.

“You’ll at least try to be friends with her?” he asked.

“Maybe,” Bucky answered. “If she doesn’t keep acting like a cat.”

“Good luck with that,” Clint quipped. He left a moment later, joining Natasha as she made her way across the barren ground towards the 2020s portal.

Then it was only the five of them: Peggy, Sam, Bucky of 1949, Bucky of the 2020s, and him – Steve.

_Forward and together, until the end of the line._

Steve still had not made his choice. He had made a vow to Peggy. A vow to Bucky – to both of them. He would have to break one or more. He didn’t want to be selfish, yet he didn’t want to leave his future self a bleak future with no one to spend it with. He knew what it felt like—

“Steve,” Bucky began, then huffed and fell silent, as he shook his head.

Bucky reached out and clamped a firm metal hand on his shoulder. Steve’s world spun a hundred eighty degrees, before he was pushed towards Peggy and Bucky. His surprise – along with Peggy and Bucky’s own – made him stumble.

Neither expected Bucky of the 2020’s to do such a thing.

Steve glanced back. His best friend whom he had left behind to seek a new, separate life, had crossed his arms over his chest. “Go, Steve. Go live, and be happy.”

“Yeah,” Sam chimed in, nodding in agreement. “We got this. Don’t worry about us.”

In that very moment, Steve had his confirmation that their past was his future; that he had not returned to the point he had left in 2023. Spurred by his best friend, he had chosen a more selfish route. That if – no, when he did return somewhere in the future – he had done so, living a full life.

“Thank you. Both of you,” he said, nodding.

“Everything’s going to be all right, Steve,” Bucky stated. He wore the smile that reached all the way to his eyes.

“It will,” Steve agreed, returning the smile.

He took a deep breath and turned back around. Without another word to his friends, Steve walked forward; to his loving wife – Peggy, to his best friend whom was his everything – Bucky, and towards a fulfilling life.

_Forward and together, until the end of the line._

*** * ***

_1949, Somewhere in Siberia…_

“< _This is where the anomalous reading have come from, sir._ >”

The bitterly cold wind whipped at him, kissing the promise of death within minutes upon what little skin was exposed to the elements. However, as the storm and snow died down a few minutes later, he saw it – the anomaly.

It looked like a jagged slit hanging in the air before them. Like a ripple within the water that had not quite followed the waves. It was jagged blue and purple in color, with black edgings that made it look eerie as it was beautiful.

“< _Here._ _Take this._ >” he immediate stated, quickly divesting the pack he carried of the rope.

The pack was left on the ground, as he tied a secure loop and knot around himself and handed the end to the scientist who had come with him. Said scientist had been the one to discover the readings, called up from his apparent ‘exile’ to this region after he had caught the name and report a few days ago.

The Red Room – Department X’s nickname that floated around Soviet circles – had been formed immediately after his return to the Motherland. Ivchenko had had enough influence left within those who controlled the purse strings to convince the right people the push it through.

But after the past few years, Department X’s personnel had whittled down to almost nothing.

Losing the Winter Soldier had been a great blow, but he never had enough faith in that program. He knew the subject quite intimately to know that what Ivchenko and Zola had tried to do was highly unstable. But their leaders had wanted a super-soldier. He had delivered what he could.

Adding to the blow was the loss of the famed Black Widows – with only one Widow left. They would have to rebuild, and he was hoping that this anomaly here would be bountiful.

Slowly approaching the slit, he stuck a hand through first, and felt nothing. He could still feel his hand. Cautiously, he stepped forward – leg first, before putting his weight forward.

On the other side was silence – relative silence. But it was not as cold as it was where he had been. The rope was still tied to him, and the slit had not changed shape, size, or color.

He looked around, drawing his hood back. He was in a well kept and maintained graveyard, which explained the quiet. But it was a set of stones to his left that drew his attention:

[Mary E. Carter – 1900 to 1975]

[Michael B. Carter (Sr.) – 1897 to 1974]

[Michael B. Carter (Jr.) – 1917 to 1945]

[Alexander T. Carter – 1948 to 1989]

[Margaret E. Carter – 1920 to 2016]

He didn’t know why a bitter smile crawled up his lips, but he forced it back down. Fortunately, the gust of blustery wind that blew through the quite graveyard, also happened to carry a few pieces of garbage through. He caught a stray partially-ripped newspaper with his hands.

A smile crawled back up his lips as he read the partially ripped headlines and the date of publication: [--CELEBRATING THE RETURN OF HUMANITY!]

The newspaper was not old, and still felt crisp and fresh. It meant it was most likely less than a year old. And given the vague time frame that he knew of this place, the Avengers would have already scattered.

“So this is the future,” Michael Carter, the Soviet agent code named Wolf Spider, murmured to himself. “The future you came from, Captain Rogers.”

~*~*~*~

Captain America, Agent Carter, Wolf Spider, Falcon, and the Winter Soldiers will return in _Captain, Agent, Soldier, Spy_.

~*~*~*~

FINI

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You made it to the end! I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.
> 
> I wanted to leave you with a few notes before moving on to the final story in this series: _Captain, Agent, Soldier, Spy_ :  
> 1\. This story was originally supposed to have 10 chapters total, written in a similar format to [A Million Shards Falling](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14661462/chapters/33871146). It got expanded into this monster, when I realized that 10 chapters were not going to cut it for returning the stones.  
> 2\. I was hoping to incorporate the _Black Widow_ movie (and possibly elements of _Falcon and the Winter Soldier_ TV series), but alas, the world pandemic crisis prevented that. So I had to scramble and adjust the outline. This also means that if/when the _Black Widow_ movie and the _Falcon and Winter Soldier_ TV series come out – they will most likely not be incorporated into the final story of this series.  
> 3\. Regarding Peggy’s relationship with Steve and Bucky. She loves Steve with all of her heart, and makes room for Bucky, but doesn’t love him like she loves Steve. Bucky is more brother-like to her than anything else.  
> 4\. Regarding Bucky’s relationship with Steve and Peggy. It’s complicated between him and Peggy – especially with Michael now confirmed to be Wolf Spider. It’s even more complicated between him and Steve.  
> 5\. Regarding Steve’s relationship with Peggy and Bucky. He loves them. I’ll leave it up to the reader to interpret the many facets of Steve’s love, themselves.  
> 6\. As for the coda – well, that’s for the next story..
> 
> A huge thank you for reading, commenting, and leaving kudos. I treasured them all, and I hope to see you in the next (or even a different) CA fic. Cheers!


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